Found In Translation
by Mardy Lass
Summary: Sam and Dean are asked to take care of something. Language barriers, stubborn poltergeists, nasty memories causing old wounds to rip at the seams: it's a typical week in the life of our favourite grumpy stumpy dude and his tall emo yardstick of morality.
1. 一 One

**_Author's Note:_**

_Set during season five but no relation to any story arcs, plots or episodes. This is not about nor does it mention the apocalypse, angels, demons or in fact demon blood. Also, this may be a little more serious than my usual fare. Be warned. Rated T for language and limited gore._

_This is for Kiu-Tai, Ho-Tsun, Cheuk-Wai, Pok-Man and Wai-To - my favourite little four-year-old balls of sunshine, who know ten words of English between them._

.

* * *

.

**一**

**(One)**

.

The Blackberry rang and rang. Sam bounded out of the shower, barely managing to keep his towel round his sopping wet waist as he snatched it up.

"Yeah," he panted.

"Mr Winchester?" a voice asked. "Sam Winchester?"

"No. Sorry, man, I think you've got-"

"Bobby Singer gave me this number. He said you'd help me."

Sam let his shoulders relax, looking round to his motel bed before slumping down to sit on it, still clutching his towel at a judicious height. "Ahm, yeah, ok. What can I do for you?"

"My name's Jerry, Jerry Leung. I'm a hunter and I've worked with Bobby once or twice. I have something small that I'd like you to take care of - it'll only take a few hours, and I'll do _anything_ you want in return - absolutely _anything_."

Sam pulled the phone away from his head to glance at it. Then he cleared his throat and brought it to bear again. "You sound desperate."

"I am. Look, can I meet you?"

"Yeah. Where are you now?"

"Well Bobby said to head southwest of Jefferson City and I'd get close," the mysterious voice, apparently belonging to 'Jerry', said.

"He's right. We're off the I-54, at a motel called the Dew Drop Inn," he said, cringing at the name.

"Ok. Thanks, man. Thank you so much. I'll be there in… about an hour - I'm in a dark blue '68 Thunderbird. I'm wearing a light tan jacket."

"We'll look out for you."

"We? Oh! Yeah, I guess your brother too… Sorry. I'm just all kind of-. Look, sorry. Thanks. See you ASAP."

The line was cut and Sam looked at his phone in consternation. He was just thinking about finishing the shower when the motel door opened. His elder brother swept in, pushing the door shut with his foot, a Baby Ruth hanging out of his mouth and his arms full of brown paper bags and a six-pack.

"Woah uwi oo?" he managed past the chocolate-coated bar of what passed as nutrition for him in his mouth, aiming the load from his arms at the wooden table by the door.

Sam just raised confused hands at him and Dean pulled the candy bar from his lips.

"What's up with you?" he repeated. "You got that 'it can't be a virus, I just checked the whole hard drive' look on your face."

"I just got a call. A friend of Bobby's needs help - he's on his way. Be about an hour."

"Aw, man! I was gonna watch a game, get some sleep, eat something that wasn't nuked by a gas station excuse for a microwave," Dean moaned.

"It sounded important. This guy - his name's Jerry - said it would only take a few hours."

"Swell," Dean grumped, pulling off his jacket and chucking it unceremoniously at the bed. "Well I'm eating the entire contents of that bag and getting a beer in me before he turns up. I don't care if he's Bobby, we killed three demons and a vamp this week and I want to waste a few hours flat on my back for a change."

"For a change?" Sam prompted. "I thought that was how you managed to spend an hour saying goodbye to that waitress this morning."

Dean pulled up his shirt sleeve to show off an angry red graze over his elbow. "If I'd been on my back I wouldn't have got this as a souvenir," he pointed out.

"TMI," Sam sighed, getting to his feet again. "I'm going to finish my shower. Eat and do whatever."

"Try and stop me," Dean groused.

Sam disappeared into the bathroom. Dean moved the six pack of bottles and one of the paper bags to the table in between the two beds. Then he threw himself at his adopted one, getting comfortable before snatching up the TV remote.

.

* * *

.

There was a knock on the door and Dean got up, feeling the butt of his gun in the back of his jeans as he looked through the spyhole. All he saw was a dark head and the suggestion of a light coloured jacket.

Sam was already at the window, looking out. He nodded at his brother and Dean opened the door a crack.

"Can we help you?" he asked cautiously.

The man - maybe a little older than Dean, but certainly much narrower - squinted for a moment. "You would be… Dean?" he asked hesitantly.

"Who's asking?"

"Jerry Leung - I spoke to Sam about an hour ago. Bobby said you could help me. Us," he added.

Dean looked him up and down. "And just how do we know Bobby gave you our numbers like that? He ain't exactly AT&T customer servi-" He stopped short as the man brandished a piece of paper at him. He reached out through the gap and took it, finding Bobby's unmistakable scrawl marked upon it. "_If he asks you how you got his number, tell him I'm sick of being AT&T customer services_," he read, deliberately carefully.

"He knows you too well," Sam observed from the window.

Dean looked up at the man in the darkness. "Ok, come on in," he sighed, opening the door wider.

He stepped back to watch him walk past him into the room. It was then, in the brightness of the room, that he realised he had something under his jacket, safely hidden from prying eyes.

Dean appraised him properly. His shock of jet black hair was fluffy, if well cared for in its own way, his eyes deep brown orbs of seriousness beyond his years. _Probably a hunter, then_, he realised. "So what's this job?" he asked clearly, closing the door.

Jerry turned and smiled nervously. "Uh, I just need someone I can trust to take care of a little something."

"So you said," Sam nodded, coming over and studying the man. Finding him less than six feet tall and definitely of Chinese persuasion, he folded his arms and waited. "Just what exactly do you want us to do?"

Jerry opened his jacket, revealing the load he was supporting with both arms. "Him," he said, hefting the small boy a little higher against his front.

The Winchesters exchanged a glance.

"We don't put down rabid Hellspawn," Dean said with serious firmness. Sam knocked his elbow. "What? We don't," he grumped innocently.

"No no - he's not the-. I just need someone to look after him while I go take care of a poltergeist problem." Jerry put his hand up to the sleeping boy's head, ruffling his hair affectionately. "He's my nephew. He turned five last week. My sis and her husband have this thing they want me to fix. I just want him out of harm's way for the night, and Bobby said you two could keep an eye on him while I'm doing it."

"We ain't babysitters neither," Dean tutted. "Isn't there someone else-"

Sam pushed at his shoulder and Dean turned to glare at him. "He wouldn't have asked Bobby if he knew someone else," Sam said clearly. Then he turned to look at Jerry. "Is there another reason you want _other hunters_ to keep an eye on him?" he asked, his eyes already running over the little lad's face.

"Uhm… yeah," Jerry said quietly. He looked down at the boy, stroking a hand down his back and patting gently. "He's a little… um… how do I explain this…"

"In words of one syllable," Dean suggested, his face a picture of weariness.

"Ok then. He's a little psychic," Jerry said in a rush.

"That's two syll-" Dean began.

"It's fine," Sam said loudly, drowning his brother out. "How strong and what does he do?"

"Oh, he just kind of draws pictures of things he feels others are feeling," he said. "He's real chatty and he loves to watch television. In fact, if you leave it on he'll watch it without even realising I'm not in the room," he offered hopefully.

"Huh," Dean observed with an expression of reluctance pinned to his face.

"It's just for a few hours, right?" Sam asked earnestly.

"Yeah yeah - I'm just doing a clearance and then I'll be right back. I brought food for him and his favourite colouring and sketching books so he won't need anything else." He waited with a face made of pure optimism.

Sam let his head tilt. "Sure, we'll take him. What's his name?"

"Ah - right. There's something else I have to explain," Jerry said slowly, with obvious discomfort, just as the little boy began to shift and open his eyes.

"What's that?" Dean asked, apparently unable to be any more unimpressed with the way the evening was turning out. The five year old on Jerry's arm blinked a few times in the light, rubbing at his eye and getting his bearings.

"His name's Wai Jai - just call him Wai Jai," Jerry nodded.

"Why Jy?" Sam prompted, lost.

"Yeah." Jerry looked down at the boy, as he turned and found two strange men watching him. "Only - he doesn't speak English. He's kind of finding it hard to learn it from his father, and his mother doesn't speak it either."

"Perfect," Dean sighed, his eyes glued to the ceiling for a long second. "Anything else? Does he go bad if he eats after midnight or gets wet? Is he afraid of bright light?"

Sam elbowed him harshly. "Dean," he tutted. The younger Winchester looked at the small boy, who was now studying him with an almost identical look of curiosity on his little face. "Hey," he said with a warm smile.

The boy shrank back into Jerry's protective jacket. He turned his head and looked up at him, opening his mouth to rattle something off in long, complicated sentences in a language the Winchesters could not understand. Jerry spoke back soothingly, indicating the Winchesters and smiling as he replied in the same language.

The boy hesitated, turning to look at the two men. He looked at Sam as if he were trying to figure out what flavour ice-cream he could be, came up with chocolate, and let his face smile. Then he turned his wee head and looked at Dean. He blinked, tilted his head, and blinked again. His face clearly indicated there was no flavour on Earth to which Dean could be likened, and he looked back at his uncle, questions tumbling from his little mouth.

Jerry nodded and spoke back to him at length. The boy finally nodded and put his hand to his uncle's face, patting as he giggled, and Jerry pulled at his nose before swinging him down to the floor. He said something final and patted the boy's jacket, sending him on a cheerful stampede to the nearest bed. As the three adults watched, he mountaineered up the side and positioned himself in the centre of Dean's bed, looking around himself and taking stock of the assorted snacks and TV remote within reach.

"Great," Dean grunted.

"Looks like he'll be fine," Sam judged. He looked back at Jerry. "You need any help with this clearance?"

"Oh no, I've got it all under control," Jerry nodded. "Look man, thanks for doing this. I just really want him safe, you know?"

"Yeah," Dean glowered resentfully, eyeing the small bundle of smile currently occupying his bed as the boy picked up a chocolate bar, sniffing the wrapper suspiciously.

"If he's any trouble at all, just shout 'Leung Chiu-Wai' as loud as you can. He'll drop everything," Jerry grinned, pulling out his car keys.

"Learn-chew-why," Sam repeated carefully. "What's that?"

"His full name," Jerry chuckled.

Sam gestured to the door and the two of them disappeared out into the parking lot, talking and discussing as they prepared to bring the supplies little Leung Chiu-Wai might need from the car.

This left Dean to watch the five year old with suspicion.

Chiu-Wai was already deciding which buttons to press on the remote and quite happily getting comfortable, having put the candy bars and snacks to one side. Dean crossed to Sam's bed, sitting on the edge and eyeing him, his lip slightly curled in distaste. He watched as Chiu-Wai attempted to push a button. The little lad lifted the remote and aimed it at the TV but nothing happened.

"You got it backward," Dean said irritably, putting his hand out for it. "Give it here, I'll do it."

Chiu-Wai's head snapped round and he looked at him with apprehension.

"I'm not gonna hurt you - unless you keep hold of that remote," Dean said, trying to keep his voice on the less angry side of friendly. He waved his fingers at the remote. "Give."

"冇意思 - 我唔知你講乜," Chiu-Wai said, managing to look rather apologetic.

Dean blinked at him - just blinked. He got up and walked to the side of the bed, taking the remote from the boy's hand. "I have no idea what you just said," he admitted, sitting on the edge. "But look, see this red light thing? It has to be pointed at the-"

He paused as Chiu-Wai shuffled across the bed, picking up a candy bar and offering it to Dean. He smiled brightly. "呢個係唔係你嘅?" he asked.

Dean's mouth worked for a second without sound. "Uhm… Okie dokie," he managed, in a tone that advertised how confused and yet unwilling to care he was. He took the proffered foodstuff and watched the lad shift up a little more.

Chiu-Wai turned and shoved a pillow to sit up against the headboard before he shuffled up to lean back on it. He folded his little legs up in front of him and got comfortable, letting out a slight sigh of happiness. He turned his attention back to Dean. "我哋睇咩呀? 有冇卡通?" he asked, waving a finger at the remote.

Dean looked down at him before thinking for a long moment. "Tell you what," he said stiffly, "we'll try Cartoon Network." He flicked through the channels as he heard the two voices coming back into the motel room.

Sam and Jerry looked up to see Chiu-Wai and Dean a safe distance from each other on the bed.

Sam smiled slightly, looking at Jerry as they put down two small rucksacks. "Told you he'd be fine," he allowed.

"Yeah. I cannot thank you two enough for looking after him. _Really_," he said, sounding very relieved.

"Not to sound in a rush here, but you got a clearance to start on or what?" Dean asked, only just managing to keep his tone civil.

Jerry nodded. "Yeah yeah - I'll get going. I don't want to put you two out any more than necessary. I'll call when I'm on the way back. Should be in a few hours, if it all goes to plan." He looked at the boy. "Wai Jai - 乖咧, 哈? 我好快返嚟, 好唔好?"

"好!" Chiu-Wai grinned, before waving his hand at his uncle cheerfully.

"乖仔," Jerry winked at him. "I'll be as quick as I can," he added to Sam.

"Good luck," Sam replied, patting him on the arm.

"Hey, it'll be a piece of cake," he smiled, turning and leaving the room.

Chiu-Wai and Dean's heads followed the door closing in perfect synchronisation.

"我幾擔心," Chiu-Wai wibbled, sounding for all the world like R2D2 with shivers of fear.

Dean sighed, assessing the tone the boy had just used. "You said it, mini dude," he sighed, shaking his head at the already ominous feel to the evening.

.

.

* * *

And, in a _Mars Attacks!_ kinda way, there are no subtitles. That would ruin the fun, LOL. If anyone feels like checking Google for the vocab, you might want to try adjusting it for Cantonese dialect. Half of the words do not exist in Mandarin, nor can they be written down with any accuracy in Cantonese.

And yes, Wai Jai is named after the movie star. :)


	2. 二 Two

二

(Two)

.

Chiu-Wai appeared to be having a whale of a time, his eyes glued to the antics of Scooby Doo as he slapped at his little knee and giggled helplessly.

Dean, now sitting with his legs out on the bed a few feet from the small boy, kept one eye on him and one eye on the stash of food between them.

"He sure is a happy little guy," Sam observed, having turned sideways in his chair under the window. His laptop was whirring away with a purpose, the Winchester's gigantic feet crossed at the ankles lazily.

"And so far he ain't touch my food," Dean nodded, satisfied. Sam snorted in amusement suddenly and Dean looked over his brother. "What?"

"He's just… He's just so happy," Sam shrugged. "You think we were ever like that?"

"I was. Then Mom died," Dean grunted.

Sam's face fell in an instant. "Dean?" he accused. "Why did you have to-"

"Forget it, Sammy," Dean said wearily, putting a hand up. "Just… forget it. I'm tired."

"Right," Sam allowed, completely unconvinced. He put his hands on the backrest, watching the little boy begin to take more of an interest in his surroundings.

Chiu-Wai's attention wandered from the TV and instead he turned and looked up at Dean. He opened his eyes wide and blinked up at him, studying him acutely.

Dean noticed and looked down at him. "What now?" he asked gruffly.

"你叫咩名, uncle?" he said innocently.

"I have no idea what you just said," Dean shrugged.

"Is he calling _you_ uncle, or is he asking for Jerry?" Sam asked. "Uncle Jerry?" he called hopefully.

Chiu-Wai shook his head. "Uncle," he repeated, putting his finger up and pushing it into Dean's breast pocket on his shirt.

"Dean," he corrected, the idea of being incorrectly identified as some form of relative apparently disturbing him somewhat.

"電?" the boy said.

"Yeah, Dean," Dean nodded. "Wai Jai," he said, pointing at the boy's front, "Dean," he added, indicating his own shirt.

"電?"

"Yeah, Dean."

"_Dihn!_" the boy laughed.

"Yeah, _Dean_," he stressed. He looked over at Sam. "Why does he keep repeating my name?"

"Who knows," Sam shrugged. "Wai Jai," he called. The boy stopped giggling and pointing at '_Dihn_' to look over at the younger Winchester. "Sam," he said clearly, tapping his own shirt front.

"心?" Chiu-Wai repeated.

He considered the sound and nodded. "Sam," he agreed.

"佢叫做 '電', 你叫做 '心'?" Chiu-Wai asked him.

Sam and Dean shared a baffled look. They turned back to the boy and gave identical shrugs. Chiu-Wai laughed out loud, clapping his hands together and rolling onto his left side on the bed.

"He's nuts," Dean pronounced, picking up the remote and flicking off the TV.

Chiu-Wai laughed himself out before scrambling back upright. He found the TV off and looked up at Dean. "Dihn uncle," he smiled. "我哋一齊畫畫, 好唔好?"

"Just 'Dean'," he corrected grumpily, but Chiu-Wai was already squirming off the bed and heading for his rucksack on Sam's table.

"Sum uncle," he said brightly, pulling at the bag to bring it toward him, "如果 Dihn uncle 唔想畫畫, 你想唔想幫我呀?"

Sam looked down into his tiny face of hope, innocence and complete happiness. He opened his mouth but didn't know what to say. Chiu-Wai gabbled on to himself as he merrily pulled a colouring book free from the bag. Sam caught the canvas rucksack before it could land on the boy's feet, and helped him find the pencil case of colours, all the while listening to the boy's cheerful one-sided conversation.

"I have no idea what he's talking about, but he's certainly very self-sufficient," Sam said, looking over at Dean.

His brother was watching Chiu-Wai with a far away look on his face. Sam did a double-take at the narrowed eyes, the mouth that sloped down, the sheer unhappiness on Dean's face.

"Dude," he managed, in an effort to break both he and Dean's lost moment.

"Yeah," Dean said quickly, looking away quickly and clearing his throat. "See if the little guy wants a drink or something," he added. "I'm gonna check I locked the car up."

Sam watched helplessly as his brother got up off the bed and disappeared out of the motel room door. Chiu-Wai looked over, then back up at Sam.

"你幫我畫畫, Sum uncle?" he asked cheerfully, thrusting the sketchbook at him.

"Let's do some colouring then," Sam guessed, trying to shrug off the unease. Chiu-Wai simply waited for him to put the large sketchbook on the table before grabbing his jeans and trying to climb up. Sam picked him up and sat him on his lap, and Chiu-Wai wriggled to get comfortable before reaching for the colour pencils.

"藍色, 唔該," he said, rippling his little fingers at Sam.

"Sorry, what?" he managed, aware his mind was several blocks away. Or at least out in the parking lot with an Impala and a certain inner peace-challenged brother. He looked down to find a little hand trying to grasp a pencil too far out of his reach. "Blue?" he guessed, picking it up and handing it to him.

"唔該, Sum uncle!" he beamed.

"You're welcome," Sam muttered automatically. He made himself push all the baggage from his mind and just helped the little lad go through the colours on the table one by one.

.

* * *

.

Dean opened the car door and climbed in, squeaking the door closed again quietly. He rifled through the glovebox and came out with a tape, pushing it in the player and his key in the ignition barrel. He turned it one step and the tape player hissed into life. He turned it right down and leaned his elbow on the window block, wiping his eyes over slowly.

As Journey picked up from where they had been rudely ejected a week ago, he did his best to stop the flood of images of baby Sam course through his mind's eye.

"_Don't you know that I'm alive for you, I'm your seventh son. And when lightning strikes the family, have faith, believe_-"

Dean reached out to snap the volume off, but something made him pause. The song fought on, louder and stronger, beating the walls down around his memories so easily it hurt.

"_With dreams he tried, lost his pride, he drinks his life away. One photograph, in broken glass, it should not end this way_…"

He shrank back, staring at the radio with anger at its betrayal.

"_Through bitter tears and wounded years, those ties of blood were strong… So much to say, those yesterdays… So now don't you turn away_-"

His hand shot out and the radio went dead. He sat back, wiping his mouth and staring at the driver's window with malice.

"I can't believe I'm sat here," he grumped to himself. "Getting old, that's what it is." He looked at the ceiling, stopped fighting the memories, and instead let them come.

.

* * *

.

"Red," Sam said happily, lifting the pencil.

"Leh!" Chiu-Wai repeated, taking the colouring implement and getting busy with it. He chatted away to himself quite cheerfully, either not realising or not caring that Sam could not even guess as to his meaning. Every time Sam picked up a colour to help, Chiu-Wai politely took it off him, preferring to do all the colouring himself. Instead, Sam kept his hand on the boy's tiny shoulder lest he topple off his knee, watching his colouring and inserting names of colours as the small hand grasped them with a purpose.

Chiu-Wai stopped suddenly, his little eyes darting to the right as he realised Sam was watching his progress. He turned slowly, finding Sam leaning over his shoulder, lost in his thoughts as his eyes followed the boy's pencil.

"點解你有噉長頭髮?" he asked with a cheeky smile, putting the pencil down.

"Sorry?" Sam blinked. Chiu-Wai reached up and put his finger to one long side of Sam's fringe, flipping it up and letting it drop. Sam waited, unsure, and the boy did it again. He giggled and turned on Sam's lap, putting both hands in Sam's hair and pushing it up and down over his ears.

Sam let himself smile, taking the boy's hands from his head. But Chiu-Wai squealed with apparent delight, freeing his hands and then sliding them down through the brown hair. He ruffled it and Sam just let him, bemused, before Chiu-Wai changed tactics and instead started smoothing it straight again, bouncing on his lap. Sam heard the motel door open and held the little wrists still, looking around at the entrance.

Dean appeared, his face set into an expression of carefully-contrived blandness as he closed the door behind him.

"Hey, you ok?" Sam called.

Chiu-Wai slewed round Sam's shoulder to see. "Dihn uncle!" he cried happily. He shifted and threw himself off Sam's knee, pulling the sketchbook with him.

As Dean slung his keys at the table, Chiu-Wai bounced into his legs and began jabbering at him.

"Hey, woah there, slow your roll," Dean said irritably. Chiu-Wai waved the sketchbook at him and Sam sighed.

"He's been chatting to himself and just drawing," he shrugged. "I think he said your name a few times, but I can't be sure."

"Super," Dean grumped. He put his hand out for the sketchbook Chiu-Wai was waving at him, and lifted it to see. Sam watched his brother's face drain of colour. He got up slowly, ready for something he could not predict. Dean looked down at the small boy, his face thunderous. "What is this?" he demanded.

Chiu-Wai's smile disappeared and he backed away one.

"You're scaring him," Sam said forcefully. "Wai Jai," he called. "It's ok, buddy."

But the small boy put his hands round Dean's knee, pulling on it with purpose as he tried to explain something at speed in a language Dean didn't speak.

"D'you wanna let go?" Dean warned with a snap.

"Dean!" Sam chided, aghast at the ferocity. "He just drew you a picture, that's all-"

"Just a picture, Sam?" he demanded. He turned the book around and splayed it out for his brother to see. "Just a _picture_?"

Sam stared, unable to comprehend what was upsetting his brother. "I don't see anything," he admitted, the whirls and swirls of colour blending nicely but not actually forming any coherent shape he could detect.

"Here!" Dean accused, jabbing a finger at the yellow swirls.

"I don't-"

"Mom's fire, Sam! He's drawing the friggin' fire the night Mom died!" He pulled the book back to look at it in anger. "And apparently you and me are on fire, too!"

Chiu-Wai made a small noise of fright and worry. Sam, confused as all Hell, decided to advance on the pair and rescue the small artist from his brother's inexplicable wrath. He scooped up the young boy and sat him on his arm, peering round at the book.

"I don't see-." He stopped dead, his unfocused eyes having picked up on a shape. Then another, and another. Finally he realised the dark circles and oblongs at the bottom of the picture were a very tiny baby in the arms of a small figure. The light and fire was around them too, the giant swirls and yellow and orange strikes of bold lines shining out from behind them. "Oh."

"Yeah. Oh," Dean accused. He snapped the book shut and turned on the small boy currently clinging to Sam in stunned silence. "This ain't funny, Wai Jai," he snapped. "You don't go round painting what's in people's heads, just cos you _can_." He tossed the book at his bed before going back for his keys.

"Dean, where are you going?" Sam called across the room.

"Somewhere little Da Vinci here can't go poking around my head," he growled, slamming the door behind him.

Chiu-Wai looked up at Sam and bit his lip. His eyes began to fill with water and Sam felt his shoulders sag.

"C'mon, Wai Jai," he allowed, moving to the bed and sitting down slowly. "He didn't mean to be mad, he's just… complicated," he sighed.

The boy gripped Sam's shirt and his tiny eyebrows fought with each other admirably. They appeared to win whatever battle they needed to before the little boy's face began to look much less like a water leak waiting to happen.

"Good boy," Sam smiled, unable to help himself. "TV?"

Chiu-Wai turned and pointed at the empty bed, still littered with untouched candy bars.

"You're hungry?" Sam asked. He mimed spooning food into his mouth but Chiu-Wai shook his head.

"Dihn uncle," he moaned.

Sam let a long sigh escape him. "He'll come back," he said, patting the boy's back in what he hoped was a soothing manner. "He'll come back."

Chiu-Wai launched into a long, unhappy tirade that sounded like railing against unfairness.

"I'm sure it's not your fault, Wai Jai," Sam sighed, patting and trying to soothe him.

Sam's Blackberry began to ring.

"_Dihn-wah!_" Chiu-Wai suddenly called.

"Dean what?"

"_Dihn-wah_," Chiu-Wai corrected, pointing at the vibrating, trilling item.

"Phone?" Sam wondered, already crossing to it and picking it up. "Hello?"

"S-Sam?" came a very unsteady voice.

"Jerry. What's wrong?"

"Trouble. Not - not good."

"Where are you, we'll come get you!"

"N-no - don't bring Chiu-Wai," he spluttered. "I need a hospital. Can't - can't move my-."

The line went dead. Sam stared at the phone in horror, then looked at the small boy on his arm. "Battle stations," he nodded at the lad, before going to the laptop and ripping it open. Chiu-Wai just watched, too frightened to speak, as his newly adopted Uncle Sam sat them down and went about tracing the location of Jerry's mobile phone.

.

* * *

.

Song is '_Mother, Father'_ by Journey.

Thanks for reading so far, folks!


	3. 三 Three

**三**

**(Three)**

.

Sam ran out to the car park, Chiu-Wai on one arm and his duffle in the other.

"Dean!" he shouted at the Impala, seeing a familiar form perched on the boot lid.

His brother leapt off it as if kicked, whirling around. "What?" he demanded shortly.

"Jerry called - it's all gone south, he's injured!" he cried, stopping by the passenger door. "I've got his cell phone location - we have to go help him."

"We?" Dean snapped. "We ain't taking that boy anywhere, Sam. You stay here with him, I'll go find Jerry."

"Dean-"

"_Sam!_" Dean raged. The unexpected anger stopped the younger Winchester in his tracks, and he felt the little boy on his arm jump in fright. "If Jerry's hurt, or worse, I am _not_ letting that little boy see him," Dean hurled. "You seriously want us to get down there to check if Jerry's still alive with his nephew watching everything too?"

Sam swallowed. "N-no-"

"You stay here with Wai Jai," he instructed.

"Ok but - we'll have to swap phones." He shifted the boy to reach for the phone in his pocket. "The address of Jerry's phone call is in there - go."

"You watch Mini Dude," he nodded, already pulling his phone free. He tossed his phone over the car roof and Sam caught it fluidly. He threw his Blackberry back and Dean grabbed it in two hands. Chiu-Wai clapped suddenly, his face alight with appreciation. Dean winked at him with the smallest sliver of a smile before he realised it. He straightened his face and slipped into the car.

Sam stood back, watching the Impala rev and pull round. Her tyres spun for a second before she leapt forward in the gravel.

"小心_, _Dihn uncle!" Chiu-Wai called worriedly after the car.

Sam watched the tail lights pause at the junction to the road, until they pulled away at speed. He looked down at the small boy still on his arm. "I guess we wait," he shrugged.

"等下先啊," Chiu-Wai nodded faithfully.

.

* * *

.

The Impala screeched to a halt in the middle of the road. Dean put her into Reverse and made it a good ten feet back before he slid her back into Drive and brought the car up the kerb carefully. He pushed her into Park before he ripped the keys from the ignition. The door squeaked open and he raced across the lawn of a well-kept house.

He noticed the front door was open and barrelled in. "Jerry!" he called. "Jerry! It's me, Dean!"

He heard a faint noise and careened through the house. He paused at the open door to the kitchen. He spotted a leg and rounded the doorjamb. "Holy crap!" he managed, finding blood and a hand lying next to an insensate Jerry Leung.

He pulled out Sam's phone, already dialling 911 as he knelt and assessed the damage.

"Hey - Jerry! Hey, pal, come on, open your eyes!" he ordered.

Jerry's eyelids fluttered as Dean looked him over. Apart from his severed hand there didn't seem to be many outlets spilling blood. The line clicked in his ear.

"Yeah - ambulance," he barked. "212 New Maple Drive. This guy's had his hand chopped off. No - maybe a kitchen appliance." He squeezed his eyes shut as he realised how dumb it sounded.

He heard a squeak and a shove and turned in time to see the fridge starting to pitch forwards.

"Son of a-" He ducked as an entire set of china plates picked themselves up and flew toward his head. "Look, lady!" he called down the phone, "He's bleeding to death so just send what you got!"

He dropped the Blackberry into his pocket and grasped Jerry's throat, finding a weak pulse. He pulled him up and got to his feet, ducking a frying pan. He pulled Jerry to sit up against his shoulder. He stopped to retrieve the hand before lifting the man with an Herculean effort. He let him drop over his shoulder. Then he ran for the safety of the front lawn.

.

* * *

.

Sam heard Dean's phone start to blare his favourite ringtone and got up.

"_Dihn-wah, dihn-wah,_" Chiu-Wai mumbled, almost able to rouse himself completely from sleep.

"I'm getting it," Sam said with a pretence at patience, seizing the phone and pulling it open. "Yeah?" he asked with urgency.

"Sam, it's me," came Dean's voice. "We may have to re-think our plans for the next few days."

"Aw crap," Sam managed, sinking to the bed underneath him. "What happened?"

"I found Jerry - this poltergeist did a real number on him. He's in the ICU right now while they try to re-attach his hand."

"What?" Sam gasped.

"I didn't-." Dean huffed, and Sam resisted the temptation to ask. "I didn't check for the parents - I didn't see 'em and I didn't even check they were in the next room or _nothing_."

Sam heard the bitterness and guilt. Most of all, he heard the anger Dean was directing at himself.

"What happened?" he dared.

"They were there alright - same as Jerry, each one missing a left hand," Dean admitted. "After I got Jerry into the ambulance and the cops showed up, they found them. Had to wait for a second ambulance."

"So they're in ICU too?"

"Yeah. Only… doesn't look good."

Sam took a deep breath and closed his eyes, desperately trying to think of something to say.

"All three had hands off," Dean offered suddenly, sounding quietly determined. "I'm guessing it's got a lot to do with why this thing is so pissed."

"Well… yeah," Sam managed, looking over at the now sleeping boy.

"How's Mini Dude? What's he doing?" Dean asked suspiciously.

"He's asleep. He was talking and colouring for a while, then he just kinda gave up," Sam sighed. He realised how much wistfulness had crept into his tone and cleared his throat. "What happens now?"

"Now I get back there and you and me go through Jerry's stuff that I pinched from his car, see what he missed on this poltergeist," Dean said firmly.

"We're taking on his case?"

"It's that or we have to cart Mini Dude round with us for the rest of our lives."

"Fair enough," Sam said brusquely, trying to sound as if the idea would offend him.

"Poor little guy," came Dean's near-silent admission. Sam decided to ignore it, correctly assuming his brother hadn't realised the phone had picked it up. "It's my fault he's on his own for a while."

"It's not," Sam argued. "You got Jerry out. And they're all in the hospital, right? What more could you have done?"

"I could have checked the other rooms for 'em."

"I could have stayed at Stanford, Dean. The fact that you didn't check is not your fault - Jerry didn't say they would be there too. And who does a clearance with the owners still in the house anyway?" he managed bravely. Silence greeted him and he cleared his throat. "So when you get back here, do it quietly," he added, trying to sound authoratative. "Wai Jai's asleep."

"Yes _Mom_," Dean teased maliciously, and the line was cut.

"Jerk," he tutted at thin air, putting the phone down on the table. He got up and went to the bed nearest the door, folding his arms and looking down at Chiu-Wai, all wrapped up in Dean's blankets as he slept. He heard a rumble and a beep and looked over at Dean's phone on the table. He walked over and opened it up, finding an SMS waiting for him. He pressed the button to read it. It was one word.

'_Bitch_.'

He smiled and closed the phone.

.

* * *

.

Dean sat back from the table, wiping his face and blowing out a long sigh.

Sam, opposite him, paused in his reading too. "Not much to go on, huh?" he observed.

"You could say that," Dean grumped. "I don't get it. One possible dead man in the house, poltergeistin' the residents, but no real trouble. Why did it suddenly start Darth Vader'ing people's hands off when Jerry tried a clearance?"

Sam looked to his left to check on the sleeping form of Chiu-Wai, who was still wrapped up safely in Dean's blankets.

"No idea. Maybe it just didn't want to go," he sighed. "Before that it wasn't really doing much harm, was it?"

"What are you saying?" Dean asked cautiously.

"Nothing. Just that… well ok, maybe starting a clearance caused the trouble. I mean, they'd lived in that house for a year without anyone getting hurt, so why did they suddenly-"

"Sam, they had a _kid_ in that house," Dean interrupted angrily. "You seriously want to leave a five year old in that place with a restless spirit?"

Sam studied his face for a long moment. "Ok, what?" he demanded.

"What 'what'?" Dean asked defensively.

"What's the problem? You're angry with yourself cos you think it's your fault his parents are involved. You're angry with _me_ cos I said we'd look after this kid, I get that. But you're angry at this kid… just cos he's a kid?" he finished carefully.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Sam," he said curtly, getting to his feet.

"Oh really," Sam huffed. _Do it,_ he told himself. "Y'know, I can tell when you're lying these days - your lips move." He steeled himself for the fight to come.

Dean turned and looked back at him, but there was no anger on his face. "I just wanted a few days off, that's all," he said clearly. "I wanted time to sleep cos it was dark, not cos we're waiting to torch something or dig something up at midnight. I just wanted - a - few - days - off," he reiterated deliberately. "But no, you took one look at Baby Bruce Lee and his Puppy Eye Fu over there and you just could not wait to take him in, could you?"

"That's not fair."

"No?"

"No. I said we'd look after him _for a few hours_, Dean. Cos Bobby sent Jerry this way - Bobby did. Did you ever stop to think _why_ Bobby might send a guy he's hunted with a handful of times to _us_ of all people to look after a _kid_? C'mon - when has Bobby ever trusted you to take responsibility for anything but your car or getting laid?"

Dean stopped short, his face creased in confusion. His eyebrows gathered for a confab and it was a moment before he looked back at his brother. "Why do you think he sent Jerry and the little guy here?"

"Maybe he thought it would keep us watching television and eating crappy junk food for one evening. Maybe he thought being chained to a motel room with the Disney Channel was better than being out somewhere killing something. And look at him," Sam said, gesturing to the slumbering child with a jerk of his chin, "he's not exactly a handful, is he?"

Dean looked over guiltily. At last he sighed and rubbed a hand over his eyes. "Well, whatever, man. It's nearly two and I just wanna sleep."

As if on cue, the little boy rolled onto his back and looked up at the ceiling. He sat up quickly, his eyes going round the room.

"爸爸!" he called, sounding very scared.

"What now?" Dean groaned.

"媽媽!" Chiu-Wai hurled, beginning to sound plaintive.

"Is it me, or did that sound like 'ma ma'?" Sam asked slowly.

"Hey, Mini Dude," Dean said quickly, going to the bed with a warning hand outstretched. "Your mom's not here right now. It's just us, buddy."

"媽媽!" Chiu-Wai wailed again. He put his hands to his hair and closed his eyes, starting to bawl.

The Winchesters exchanged a look of surprise and apprehension.

"What the Hell?" Dean managed over the noise. "He's been like Mr Sunshine the whole time! What made him start up?"

Sam began to shrug, then froze. He swallowed before scrabbling for Dean's phone still on the table. He pressed buttons quickly and then dashed over to his brother, holding the phone out at him.

"The hospital - check on his parents," he ordered.

Dean took the phone, confused, before he heard the line click. "Oh, ah - yeah. I was in earlier, I brought in a Mr and Mrs Leung, and her brother," he said slowly. "You got any news on them?" He paused, listening, as Sam went to Dean's bed and made an attempt to appease the small boy. "Yeah, I'll hold," Dean added. He waved a hand at Sam, pointing at the boy. Sam huffed at him, putting his attention back to Chiu-Wai and pulling his hands from his head gently.

Chiu-Wai screeched and wailed, his face a mess of tears and upset. Dean flicked his eyes at the ceiling before he walked to the door and out, closing the motel door behind him.

"Wai Jai, Wai Jai, look at me," Sam urged gently. "Hey, buddy, come on, it's ok - it's going to be alright," he soothed. The boy's wailing began to tail off some, but it appeared to be more from lack of air than any diminishment in sorrow. Sam held his hands firmly, squeezing a little to get his attention. "It's ok, dude, we'll be ok," he said hopefully, offering a sympathetic smile at the two little black marbles peering at him with anguish.

He pushed the boy's hair from his damp head. Chiu-Wai grabbed onto Sam's shirt sleeves, but he didn't seem interested in being comforted. He stuttered in air and sobbed it out, a lot more quietly but certainly without an end in sight.

_What do I do? How can I help?_ Sam railed on the inside, desperately trying to think of some way to help the small boy.

After what seemed like an eternity, the motel door opened again and Dean stepped back into the room, his phone in his hand. He closed the door slowly, not looking at his brother.

"How bad is it?" Sam dared.

"Oh, it's all the way bad," Dean breathed uncomfortably. He looked at Chiu-Wai, who was trying to make himself stop crying by the looks of it. He swallowed and turned his gaze on his younger brother. "His mom and dad didn't make it."

.

* * *

.

Heeee! I know, I'm ee-vil...

Thanks for reading so far - I do really appreciate all of your reviews and comments. They keep me going!


	4. 四 Four

**四**

**(Four)**

.

Dean crossed the room to his occupied bed and let the phone fall from his fingers, watching Chiu-Wai bawl amidst Sam's desperate attempts to calm him. "You think he'll shut up once he tires himself out?" he asked, his voice strangely hollow.

Sam looked up at him. "Could you be _any more_ insensitive?" he accused.

"Go get us some ice-cream," Dean said firmly, "and I'm talking gallons."

Sam stared at his brother for a long moment.

"Just go," Dean sighed wearily. "I'll calm him down."

The younger Winchester appeared to consider it. "You?" he prompted flatly. "_You_ will?"

"I already got one wailing kid here, don't make me clock another one," Dean warned, but his eyes were glued to the small child.

Sam eyed him with real indecision. Eventually he let go of Chiu-Wai's hands and got to his feet. "Just… go easy, ok?" he muttered.

"Sure," Dean managed non-commitedly.

He waited until Sam had snatched up the car keys and his wallet and phone before sitting on the bed slowly. Sam disappeared out of the door quietly and Dean took a deep breath, watching the sobbing child cling to the blankets with his little fists.

He put a hand out and enveloped one of the boy's, guiding it down to his little knee. Chiu-Wai's sobbing stayed his priority, but looking at his strange adopted uncle was fast becoming the second point on his list.

"I hate this," Dean admitted grumpily. "I mean, this whole thing. When I was about your age, my mom died too. I was just as tiny as you- well, nearly as tiny as you are now." He paused as Chiu-Wai's sobbing stopped short. The boy was hiccuping in air, staring at Dean with large, bright, red-rimmed eyes. Dean let go of his hand and shifted up the bed slowly, sitting next to him. He put his hand to the boy's fringe and swept it across, dragging damp strands away from the little lad's eyes. "At least I had my dad. And Sammy - big Sam uncle," he added with an apologetic smile. "You still got your uncle Jerry, kid. You're gonna be ok for now. But you will never forget this night. Ever."

Chiu-Wai shuffled up the bed, putting his hands out on Dean's jeans. He pulled and before he knew it, Dean had a small boy sitting sideways on his lap, his head buried in Dean's chest. His little hand came up and twisted a fistful of t-shirt, as if to keep it close to his face. Dean's hand came up and rested on his shoulder.

"It's the worst thing in all the world, ain't it?" Dean grumped, "I don't know how you knew they'd gone, I'm just gonna put it down to you and your psychic stuff. I am… I am so sorry," he managed, and Chiu-Wai looked up at him slowly. "Jeez, kid, don't look at me with those eyes like that," he sighed, rubbing the boy's shoulder slightly. Chiu-Wai blinked and wiped his wet eyes, clutching at Dean's free left hand with his. He held it tightly in both hands, his breathing starting to return to normal. "I was sat on the hood of that Impala with my dad and my brother, watching my house - my life - burn down. And now here you are, sat on me, somehow knowing your life is going under too. And it's cos I didn't check the other room. _I didn't check the other room_. And now it's happening all over again." He closed his eyes, feeling the little fingers dig into his hand. "It's happening all over again. And it's not fair. It's never fair."

Chiu-Wai sniffled and controlled his breathing. He hiccupped in anguish before he leaned back, away from Dean's t-shirt, and instead yanked on it. "Dihn uncle, 你點解每次記得嗰晚上?"

"I'm sorry, buddy. I wish I spoke your language," he offered, opening his eyes and looking at the ceiling.

Chiu-Wai let go of his hand and shirt and rolled off his lap, fetching his sketchbook and dragging it back across the bed. He put a hand out and shoved, manhandling Dean until he took the hint and moved up to the headboard. The boy arranged him so he was leaning back against it, then he climbed back onto the adult's lap and pushed the book against his chest.

"You want me to look in it?" Dean asked, as the boy wiped his sleeve across his eyes. "Don't do that," he said irritably, putting his hand up and removing the rough material. "Here, show me," he added, tapping the book.

Chiu-Wai turned sideways again and Dean helped him open the book across his little knees. The little lad found the page containing the drawing he had shown him earlier and put a hand on it. His lower lip began to wobble as he looked up at Dean with streaming eyes.

"你媽媽都死咗呀?" he asked.

Dean looked down at the picture, putting his hand out and tracing the yellow and orange swirls of the housefire that had consumed Mary Winchester.

"That was my mom," he said quietly. "Ma ma," he added, tapping the picture.

Chiu-Wai looked down at it, his tears sliding silently down his face. He sniffed and hiccuped, before moving his hand to the swirls of baby and brother. Dean put his hand on his shoulder.

"Dean," he breathed, pointing at the small black figure, "and Sammy," he added, his finger rubbing over the slight relief of the colours on the page. "Although I still don't know why we're on fire like that," he said, a wry smile threatening to break the anguish on his face. He blinked suddenly, looking more closely. "Wait… that's not… fire, is it? What is it, light? Like… special light?"

Chiu-Wai spread his hand over the two figures, beginning to sob again. Dean pulled the book out from underneath his touch and let it slide to the bed. He turned the boy's shoulder toward him wretchedly and Chiu-Wai flung his arms round him, pressing his dripping face into his t-shirt.

Dean let his head back. He looked up at the ceiling. He put his arm round the boy warmly and held on.

.

* * *

.

Sam opened the motel door to find it silent. He carried the brown paper bags from the mini mart in with him, surveying the room.

What he found was his brother, fast asleep in his t-shirt and jeans, flat on his back in the middle of his bed, his bootless feet crossed at the ankles. Chiu-Wai was snuggled comfortably under his right arm, one hand holding Dean's left one resting on his stomach, his head against the relatively huge mountain of his chest and shoulder.

Sam let himself stare for a long moment. Chiu-Wai appeared pale, apart from his slightly red eyes.

_Kind of what I expected_, Sam realised. His eyes swept over his brother but stopped short in surprise. Dean's eyes were perhaps the tiniest bit red, too. It made his brother stare.

Sam collected himself and closed the door, being careful not to make any noise. He deposited the car keys on the wooden table before taking the three tubs of ice-cream and putting them in the tiny fridge-freezer at the back of the room. He pulled his jacket off, watching the two of them sleep off whatever evening they appeared to have shared.

He thought about it, then went to his laptop and opened it up, getting comfortable at the table under the window.

.

* * *

.

Sam looked up from the laptop as he heard movement behind him. A familiar waking-grunt came from his brother and he turned slowly. Dean was rubbing his eyes and nose, looking down to find Chiu-Wai still clinging to him.

He noticed Sam was watching with a small, fond smile and grimaced. "Is it morning yet?" he grumped.

"Yeah." Sam looked at the small boy. "You got him calmed down then."

"Yeah." He hiked himself up on his elbow carefully, putting his hand up slowly. He gently freed the little hand from his t-shirt before sitting up. "You been busy?"

"Slept for a while. Then I found a few stories on this poltergeist - all non-threatening, non-pissy. There's still no reason it would start chopping hands off like that - it hasn't done anything like this in over twenty years," Sam shrugged.

"Right. Maybe someone pissed it off," Dean offered, before yawning. He pushed himself off the bed and went into the bathroom.

Chiu-Wai muttered something and squirmed around on the bed. His eyes opened and he looked around. "Dihn uncle?" he havered, his voice plaintive.

Sam blinked, surprised. "Morning," he said with a kind smile. "Dean's in the washroom. He'll be back."

But Chiu-Wai's face turned fearful. "Dihn uncle?" he wibbled. "Dihn uncle!"

They heard the toilet flush and water run behind the door, and Sam pointed at it.

"Dean's in there," he said simply. "Wait a second."

Chiu-Wai commando-rolled off the bed, running at the door and pounding on it. "Dihn uncle! Dihn uncle! 唔好離開啊! 我需要你啊!"

Sam got up quickly, pulling the boy away from the door gently before it whisked open.

"Where's the fire, Mini Dude?" Dean asked, looking down at him. Chiu-Wai simply put his arms up and flexed his fingers needfully. Dean blinked at him, then looked at Sam.

"Looks like you're his new security blanket," Sam said with a forced smile that smacked of awkwardness.

"Aw come _on_," Dean moaned in protest. Chiu-Wai grabbed at Dean's jeans before reaching for his t-shirt. "Alright! Slow down!" he warned, lifting the boy to sit on his arm. Chiu-Wai's arms went round his neck and Sam stood back, grinning madly as he folded his arms.

Sam opened his mouth but Dean glowered at him. "Don't you say a word," he warned, walking the boy back to the bed. He tried to disentangle the young lad but Chiu-Wai hung on grimly.

"你同我一樣, 我好驚你走開," he moaned fearfully.

Dean just blinked at him, hefting him to sit straighter on his arm. "Great," he wheezed, scrubbing at his own hair with his other hand. "Well it's morning, and we need to get this little guy to the hospital so he can see that Jerry's still alive. And I need a shower."

"Are you taking Wai Jai with you?" Sam needled with a wide, unctuous smile.

"Nope," Dean said equally maliciously, "because you're going to show him the wonders of your laptop to distract him."

Sam's face fell. Dean grinned, his eyebrows raising in triumph.

Chiu-Wai looked from one to the other, then back at Dean. He bit his little lip in worry.

.

* * *

.

The drive to the hospital was fraught with worried manhandling by Chiu-Wai and desperate toddler-balancing by Dean. Sam squeezed his hands on the steering wheel, enjoying the chance to drive and silently thanking their little burden for making it impossible for Dean to sit by himself in the driver's seat.

"Don't touch that," Dean said irritably, reaching out and pulling Chiu-Wai's hand from the radio knob. "No," he added quickly, capturing his wee hand and pulling it back away from all the dials and switches within reach. "Friends don't play with friend's radios," he said sternly. He caught a slight nod of the head and spied his younger brother smirking from the driver's seat. "Oh you think this is funny?" he demanded.

Chiu-Wai bounced down to sit on Dean's lap, not caring what he crushed in the process. He banged his head back against Dean's chest repeatedly, singing to himself.

"Actually? I think it's hilarious," Sam chuckled, before losing control and laughing out loud.

"Well laugh it up, fuzzball, cos when we get to the hospital and Jerry's being discharged, this little rugrat is so going back with him." He tutted and put his hand to the back of the boy's head. "Don't do that! I ain't Silly Putty!"

Chiu-Wai giggled, chatting away in Cantonese in a small, confident voice to himself. Dean shook his head before looking out of the window.

"So we do this clearance for Jerry, and leave them to it?" Sam asked, much more seriously.

"I don't see another option, Sammy," he sighed.

"我哋去跟邊度, Sammy?" Chiu-Wai asked.

"Sam," the driver corrected absently.

"Sammy," Chiu-Wai giggled.

Dean patted his shoulder. "Sweet, Mini Dude," he said with a sly grin. "High-five." He waved his free hand round the front of the boy, who looked at it. Dean lifted the wee wrist and their hands clashed. "High-five!"

Chiu-Wai laughed out loud, slapping Dean's palm again. "Hi fi!" he giggled, slapping once more.

Dean tousled his hair with a grin before he realised Sam was watching him. He cleared his throat and straightened his face to a more sombre expression.

Sam pulled the Impala up to the entrance of the hospital car park. He waited for a car to leave before he pulled in slowly.

"Right, so you bring Wai Jai and I'll bring my notebook," he said, killing the engine and climbing out of the car. "We need to get Jerry's story from him and find out what we do next. There's gotta be something we missed here."

"Right," Dean nodded.

"Ry!" Chiu-Wai echoed.

Dean winked at him and opened the door, hefting him out. The boy grabbed onto his checked shirt as the three of them went into the large hospital building.

.

.

* * *

_Sorry this update is a little later than usual. Thanks for reading! :)_


	5. 五 Five

**五**

**(Five)**

.

The two Winchesters and Chiu-Wai went through half the building before they came upon the right hospital room. Chiu-Wai grasped Dean's hand firmly as they opened the door to room 379, finding Jerry in the single bed.

"Jerry," Dean said, sounding for all the world as if no-one knew the meaning of relief but he. "How you doing?" He eyed the hand in heavy plaster, with large metal rods going through it at right angles like a magic trick.

"叔叔啊!" Chiu-Wai called, apparently relieved. He jumped twice to see higher and Dean sighed, his eyes rolling around the ceiling before he bent and picked him up to sit on his arm. The boy giggled and waved at his only blood relative cheerfully.

"Hey, Wai Jai," Jerry smiled, relaxing somewhat. His gaze spread to Dean and then Sam. "Well you three seem fine," he added quietly. "I'm not so good."

"Yeah, ah, we're real sorry. I heard it turned out bad," Sam added.

"叔叔! 呢兩個 uncle 真係好玩啊!" Chiu-Wai gabbled happily. "我好傷心, 不過 Dihn uncle 同我一樣. 我同佢一定一齊玩吓, 得唔得呀?" he rattled off with a nervous smile.

Jerry actually smiled, waving his one free hand at Dean. "He says you two are the same - he wants to know if he can stay with you to play for a while."

"What? The same what?" Dean asked. "Are you not checking out of here?"

Sam thumped his arm in a frustrated manner. "Dean," he hissed. "A little more patience?"

"What? Oh, yeah, yeah, of course," Dean managed. "Look, we don't want to rush you, but-"

"-We want to help you with this poltergeist problem," Sam interrupted. "But we can talk about that later. How are you feeling, first of all?"

Jerry's eyes went to the ceiling. "I've been better," he managed. "It's good to know Wai Jai's ok." He looked over at the small boy playing with the amulet dangling from Dean's neck. "He's had such a tough time, and losing his parents is going to-" He stopped abruptly, turning his head on the pillow to look toward the far wall.

The Winchesters exchanged a glance, Dean shuffling his feet uncomfortably. Wai Jai suddenly started talking, apparently to himself, and Jerry sniffed miserably.

"Wai Jai!" he said curtly. The little boy stopped, looking shocked and fearful. "Look, ah… Fellas? Can you do me a favour?" Jerry asked, his voice unsteady.

"Yeah," Sam said immediately, walking closer and looking down at the man. "What do you need?"

"Can you take Wai Jai until I'm out of here? I don't want him seeing in my head and knowing I miss my sister - his mom."

"Sure," Sam nodded, patting his shoulder. "He seems to like Dean, so it won't be a problem. You just rest up. I'll come back tomorrow, I want to talk to you about this clearance. Ok?"

"Yeah," Jerry whispered. "Yeah. Thanks."

"Rest," Sam advised, patting his shoulder.

Dean nodded at him warily, looking down at Chiu-Wai on his arm. "Ok, we're out of here, Mini Dude. Say 'bye uncle Jerry'," he instructed.

Chiu-Wai looked up at him, then twisted to see Jerry. He jabbered on at him but Jerry lifted his free hand currently not in plaster and IV drips. He spoke back to him softly and Chiu-Wai fell sullenly silent. Then he sniffed and closed his eyes, leaning his head into Dean's t-shirt, apparently needing to stay there.

"Take him out of here," Jerry said quietly. "He'll just be worse for hearing my grief right now."

"I heard that," Dean nodded, turning to the door. Sam patted Jerry's shoulder once more before following them out.

.

* * *

.

Sam peeled off his jacket and left it over the back of the wooden chair by the door. Dean carried Chiu-Wai into the motel room and deposited him on the bed. Chiu-Wai talked at him but Dean appeared to ignore him, going to the fridge and pulling out a dark brown bottle.

"You're having a beer with Wai Jai here?" Sam pointed out.

Dean paused, looked at the bottle, and then over at the boy. "I guess not," he sighed, putting the drink back. He shut the fridge and leaned on it, wiping his face. "This whole thing sucks, man," he grumped. "I'm gonna kill Bobby."

"Yeah right - I'd pay to see that," Sam snorted. He pulled his laptop from his duffle and opened it up. "Guess I'll keep digging."

"Great. What do I do?" Dean asked.

"Well it looks like Wai Jai wants to draw with you," Sam said with a malicious smile, gesturing to the boy.

Chiu-Wai was shuffling round on Dean's bed, hauling out colouring pencils and his large sketchbook. He looked up and called out to Dean, waving his hand at him in a summary beckoning gesture that pleased Sam no end.

"Riiiiiiight," came Dean's very unconvinced reply.

.

* * *

.

Sam huffed, rubbing his eye and leaning his elbow on the table. He grimaced at the laptop, running the hand through his hair to scrub at the roots. He closed his eyes and let himself listen to the two voices behind him.

"We're just talkin' about the future-"

"We jes tok bout foo!"

"Forget about the past-"

"Fog bout pass!"

"It'll always be with us - it's never gonna die-"

"Aways be us - is neh go die!"

"Ok, ready? Go: rock and roll ain't noise pollution!"

"Loh an low an noy pooshun!"

"Rock and roll ain't gonna die!"

"Loh an low an go die!"

"High five, Mini Dude."

There was a slapping sound before Chiu-Wai was overcome with laughter. Sam smiled at the happy sound where there had been so many tears a short time before - tears apparently only his brother could staunch.

_Why did Wai Jai just take to him? _Sam heard himself tut on the inside. _It's not like I want the kid attached to me or anything. But…_

He turned in the seat, finding Dean and Chiu-Wai sat on Dean's bed, sharing the large sketchbook and colouring some large affair between them. The small boy poked his left hand into Dean's side, taking his red pencil off him and handing him a yellow. He pointed at the paper and continued chatting away happily to himself. Dean sniffed, applying this colouring pencil where the boy was indicating. He kept one eye on the small lad as he coloured large yellow swirls as commanded. Chiu-Wai looked up and smiled at him gratefully. Dean resisted the temptation to smile back. Instead he tapped at a part of the picture in front of the boy, and Chiu-Wai continued to jabber on in Cantonese while he aimed for it.

The boy paused, then took a deep breath. "Loh an low an noy pooshun! Loh an low an go die!" he sang cheerfully, making Dean grin. He waited for the boy to start again, and this time joined in the song.

"Rock and roll ain't noise pollution, rock and roll ain't gonna die - now you."

"Loh an low an noy pooshun! Loh an low an go die!"

"Rock and roll ain't noise pollution, rock and roll ain't gonna die!"

"Loh an low an noy pooshun! Loh an low an go die!" He paused to drop his pencil to the book, lifting his hand up. "Hi fi!" he declared.

Dean grinned and lifted his hand, slapping palms with the boy. Chiu-Wai laughed and fell backwards on the bed, talking away. Dean just raised his eyebrows, shaking his head slightly.

"We done with this picture now?" he asked, twisting to look at the boy.

Chiu-Wai recovered and sat up again, pulling the large sketchbook over his lap and looking at the picture critically. He nodded at last, then looked up at Dean with large, round eyes. "俾 Sammy 睇, 先啊," he said, pushing the book toward him.

Dean flicked his gaze to his brother, realising he was being watched. "I think he wants you to look at it," he said, getting up and crossing the room, handing it to his brother.

Sam took the book and eyed it, turning it this way and that to make out any kind of picture. "What is it?" he asked.

"No idea, man. He told me what to colour, I just coloured it. Damned if I can make anything out," Dean sighed.

Chiu-Wai hopped off the bed and came over, pushing in front of Dean to squeeze up under Sam's arm. He leaned back on Sam's shoulder, pointing down at the book.

"有鬼," he said clearly, tapping. "有喧鬧鬼," he added. "喧鬧鬼."

"Hoon now gwai?" Sam repeated. "I don't know what that is, Wai Jai," he said gently.

The boy looked perplexed. "喧鬧鬼," he stated clearly. "喧鬧鬼!"

Dean put a hand on his shoulder, then handed him a blue colouring pencil. "Write it," he said clearly.

Chiu-Wai looked up at him, then gave an '_ai-yah_' noise both Winchesters recognised as frustration and weariness. It almost made Sam smile as he watched the small boy stick his tongue out of the side of his mouth, trying to write large Chinese letters on the next empty page in the book.

Chiu-Wai stopped a few times, thinking. "Aaaai! 呢個字真係好難!" he grumped, exactly as an old man might complain about the youth of today, earning him hidden smiles from the watching hunters. He stood back and looked up at Sam. "La! Sammy, 你睇吓."

Sam looked at the three words - which looked extremely wobbly and ill-formed, even to Sam's untutored eye - and frowned. "Just how am I supposed to find out what this means?" he asked.

"Uhm, laptop?" Dean pointed out. Chiu-Wai took Dean's hand firmly, pulling. "What?" he asked as he was drawn back across the room. The boy kept hold of his hand, reaching for his little rucksack on the bed. Dean helped him empty it out until a small book fell to the blankets. Chiu-Wai picked it up and showed it to him, saying something slowly and deliberately. "Mini Dude's got a dictionary," Dean beamed, turning to look at Sam. He looked back down at the boy. "Find those words then," he said simply.

Chiu-Wai let go of his hand and turned to struggle against the side of the bed. Dean picked him up and sat him on the blankets, standing over him and folding his arms. Sam waited impatiently as the boy flicked through the book.

"Dean," he said quietly, "he's five. How's he going to find these three words in a book that size?"

"Sammy," he said briskly, still watching the small child, "when I was five I was learnin' how to change your diapers and fry eggs. Let him try."

Sam felt his mouth snap shut in surprise, blinking at the pair of them. He sniffed and waited.

Eventually Chiu-Wai tutted and threw the book at the floor by his feet angrily. "太辛苦! Ma ma Ba ba 比喧鬧鬼死咗但係我幫唔到你哋啊!" He slapped his hands to his eyes and his tears of frustration were all too obvious.

Sam opened his mouth but didn't know what to say.

Dean sighed, letting his arms drop and sitting on the bed next to the boy. "Look, you tried," he managed, as gently as he could. Chiu-Wai turned abruptly and shouted at him, waving his little finger at him too. Sam blinked as the boy curled his hand into a fist and thumped it into Dean's chest, still shouting. Sam waited for his brother to get angry and grab the offending limb.

But he didn't.

"Yeah yeah, I know," he said wearily, putting a hand on his shoulder. "You hate all the world right now. Believe me, I know."

Chiu-Wai grabbed his arms and shoved his head into his t-shirt, crying loudly. The reluctant Winchester picked the boy up under the arms and sat him sideways on his lap. Chiu-Wai simply enveloped what he could with his little arms and Dean rubbed his back, making sure he did not look at his younger brother, even for a second.

Sam got up and went to the coffee machine on the table in between the beds, pouring out some plain warm water and bringing it over. He handed it to Dean, who was still finding places to look that did not include Sam, before he turned and picked up the dictionary. He sat down again, watching the small boy hiccup and sniff his way back to normal.

Dean patted at his back as he rubbed firmly. "You want water, Mini Dude?" he asked quietly. "If you were my brother I'd give you whisky, but as you're only five, this will have to do."

Chiu-Wai's bright little orbs of hope and sadness blinked at him.

"Water?" Dean offered.

Chiu-Wai's eyes went to the cup and then back up to Dean's gaze. "Dihn uncle," he sniffed miserably. Dean sighed, reaching over and putting the water on the bedside table. Chiu-Wai kept hold of him the whole time, and when he sat back again, pushed himself as hard as he could into Dean's front.

Sam looked at the small dictionary in his hands, flicking through it aimlessly. The pages were brightly coloured with lively demonstrations of a simple list of words, but what kept Sam's eyes on them in such a focused manner was the way Dean was comforting the small boy by pretending he was doing absolutely nothing of the kind.

Chiu-Wai started muttering to himself, and it went on for some minutes. Abruptly it turned angry, at which point he turned and looked at Sam. "La!" he proclaimed sullenly.

Sam looked back at him, feeling for all world as if he were being told off. "Yes?"

Chiu-Wai picked up the nearest thing - a change of socks - and flicked it into the air. Both Winchesters watched it fall. "喧鬧鬼!" he declared. Both men just blinked. He found another item and that went a similar way, somersaulting through the air to land on the carpet.

Sam snapped his fingers suddenly. He went to the laptop and went straight to his favourite search engine, typing in a single English word and pressing 'translate'.

"Well I'll be-. Dean," he said, surprised.

"What?" he grumped, rubbing the boy's back as he clung to him like a monkey to the biggest banana in the jungle.

"You'll never guess what those three words mean," Sam grinned, looking over at him.

"Want ice-cream?" he shrugged.

"Poltergeist!" Sam beamed in victory. "I think Wai Jai here knows what we're after."

.

.


	6. 六 Six

**六**

**(Six)**

.

Dean turned Chiu-Wai round to look at Sam. "The picture? The words?" he prompted. "The… what was it, Sam?"

"Hoon now gwai?" Sam hazarded.

The small boy appeared to perk up a little. He opened his mouth and a huge torrent of possibly information, possibly general observation tumbled out of his mouth.

"We really need Jerry here," Dean pointed out. "He could be telling us the whole case and we'd never know."

Chiu-Wai jumped off Dean's lap and hurried to the sketchbook. He jabbered on, tapping the book and then flexing his fingers at Sam. He just looked back at him, nonplussed, until the boy grabbed his sleeve and pulled him down toward the book.

"你睇吓, 你睇吓!" he urged.

Sam just closed his mouth and looked at the picture again. "This is the poltergeist?" he ventured. "We'll need a little more than that, Wai Jai."

The boy tutted, clearly frustrated. He picked up a blue pencil and pulled the sketchbook from Sam's view, carrying it back to Dean's bed. He threw it on and pulled open a fresh page, scribbling quickly. Dean leaned over and watched.

"Shoes?" he asked, confused. "You're drawing shoes?"

"雞鞋," the boy insisted, circling the pair of blue shoes. "有雞. 雞!" he repeated, waving a finger at the shoes. "雞!"

"Guy?" Dean repeated dumbly. Then his face lit up. "Guy! Chicken!" he realised.

"Chicken?" Sam prompted.

"Chicken!" Dean nodded. He turned to look at the small boy, folding his arms into triangles and flapping them for affect. "Guy? Chicken?"

"係啦, 雞! Chickee!" he chuckled.

"See? Guy is Chinese for 'chicken'," Dean grinned, letting his 'wings' drop.

"And how could you possibly know that?" Sam blinked.

"Chicken is also Chinese slang for 'hooker'," Dean shrugged.

"I should have seen _that_ one coming," Sam sighed. "So what, this poltergeist wears chicken shoes?"

"Or hooker boots," Dean nodded, a sudden pleased look taking over his face as his gaze drifted to one side, pre-occupied.

"Hey," Sam tutted, snapping his fingers to get his brother's attention, "not in front of the kid."

"Sam, he doesn't speak English."

"Sammy!" Wai Jai interrupted. "你去我屋企, 搵到 chickee soos!" he said excitedly.

"No English, huh?" Sam judged. He looked at the boy. "Ok, so we need to look for chicken shoes."

"How?" Dean asked, lost.

"Well maybe it's the thing keeping the poltergeist here - so maybe these shoes are somewhere in Wai Jai's house. So that's where we'll start," Sam offered.

"All three of us? Sam, we are _not_ taking him - all psychic picking up crap - to the house where his _parents and uncle were attacked_. And this poltergeist is supposed to be in there chopping people's hands off! What if it goes for him?"

"Good point." Sam huffed, getting to his feet. "Well I need to go visit Jerry and see if there's something we missed. You two stay here - I'll go on to the house when I'm done at the hospital."

"What? Why don't _you_ stay here with Mini Dude and _I'll_ go-"

"Dean, he likes you. He's obviously upset about this whole thing and for some reason he feels better with you here."

"He likes you too!" Dean protested. He turned to look at Chiu-Wai. "Hey, Mini Dude."

"咩呀?" he asked swiftly, looking up from his picture.

"You," Dean said, pointing at him, "want to stay with me," he continued, pointing at his own front, "or Sammy," - he pointed at his brother - "while the other goes to find this hoon now gwai poltergeist thing in chicken shoes?"

Chiu-Wai considered him for a long moment. When it was clear the penny had dropped, the boy turned from the bed and walked up to Sam. He began to talk in a way that made it obvious he was instructing the relatively altitudinous Winchester in something extremely important, as he put his little hands out and turned him around. He gave a gentle shove before going back to the sketchbook and handing it to Dean, waving his hands at the bed.

"Sammy 會找得喧鬧鬼冇問題. Dihn uncle 坐吓," he said clearly, indicating he sit, "幫我," he added, tapping his own chest, "畫畫," he finished, his hand miming a busy pencil colouring.

Sam had already turned back to see, and now he grinned. "I think that means I'm on the way out, and you get to draw," he said maliciously. "I'll call when I have news."

"You better," Dean grumped. He looked down at Chiu-Wai as Sam let himself out of the motel room. "Well I ain't doing it without ice-cream."

He went to the fridge and opened it, choosing a tub from the top freezer shelf and bending down to reach for it. Before he could move a small black head pushed itself up in his line of sight and took it down carefully.

"朱古力!" he exclaimed happily.

"Chocolate," Dean supplied, watching him carry the tub off toward the bed. He sighed, closed the fridge, and picked up the two teaspoons from the coffee machine, aiming for the small boy attempting to hike up the side of the bed again.

.

* * *

.

Sam walked into the hospital room, finding Jerry pushing away a half empty plate. He looked up and smiled slightly.

"Hey, Sam. How's everything going?"

Sam took the seat next to the bed, getting comfortable in it before he pulled out his notebook. "Uhm, ok," he havered. "Dean and I have been trying to go over your notes about this case."

"How's my nephew?"

"Wai Jai's been a little upset but he seems to have attached himself to Dean. And he seems happy to colour and talk to himself."

"What?" Jerry asked, his face falling. "How do you mean, 'talk to himself'?"

Sam thought about it. "Well he just kinda… I mean, I thought he was talking to us or just thinking out loud, cos he kind of realises we don't understand what he's saying. But he just… well, goes on about his business having a conversation with himself. At least, that's what I think he's doing. I have no idea what he's saying. He could be reciting a shopping list for all I know."

"You don't think he's… talking to someone you can't see?" Jerry offered quietly.

"N-no," Sam began, then thought back, trying to remember. He looked up at Jerry. "Why do you ask?"

He sighed, apparently regrouping from the inside. "About a year ago, he started talking to himself - as his parents thought. One day he was with me and we were at this toy store. He said that we should not go into the bike section because his new friend told him someone would get hurt."

"His new friend?"

"We passed by the bike section but Wai Jai wouldn't let us go in, so we didn't. A few minutes after we went on by, one of the display stands buckled and dropped two mountain bikes on - luckily - an empty aisle. Well, everyone else called it lucky. Wai Jai said his friend had told him about it. When I asked him who this 'friend' was, he said he was invisible but he lived in the toy store - that he was a dead boy who helped people."

Sam leaned back in the chair. "So he hears dead people." _A regular Haley Joel Osment, as Dean would say right about now_, Sam heard his thoughts run on.

"Yeah. Since then, when he chats away to himself, he's either just busying around or he's actually having a conversation with some spirit or ghost. So far, they only seem to be friendly or benign. In fact," Jerry sighed, "he's never been scared or worried about any of the 'people' he's talked to."

"Does he ever tell you about them?"

"Sometimes. Sometimes he says it's sad that they're still here. He's always seemed to know what I do - he even called me a hunter to my face once, because a 'friend' had explained to him my job and that I was helping people 'move along', as he put it."

Sam frowned. "You think there's ghost or spirit voices talking to him while he's with Dean?"

"Could be," Jerry shrugged. "What does he do when he colours?"

"He just… It looks like he's talking to Dean, like giving a running commentary on the pictures they make. He doesn't seem to be focusing on anything else in the room, just telling Dean how to colour pictures."

Jerry grinned suddenly, and Sam waited. "That's ok. He does that," Jerry allowed fondly. "It's how he gets on with someone. He doesn't let just _any_one help him colour, he's very protective of his sketchbook," he chuckled. "He said once… it's like all his 'friends' who I can't hear or see… They don't have hands any more, they can't draw with him. His dad… he was the only person he ever let touch his sketchbook."

"Because?"

"Who knows, Sam," Jerry sighed. "But he said once… Something about people knowing. That was it. I never understood it, and I was never able to get him to explain it."

They were quiet for a moment, each apparently lost in their thoughts. Sam looked up slowly. "So this how you realised he was in some way psychic?"

"Yeah," Jerry sighed. "It took me a long while to break it to his parents. They were used to him chatting away and being cheerful with everyone - _everyone_. You've seen how he is," he admitted, a smile covering his worn face.

Sam grinned, he couldn't help it. "He certainly is a happy little guy," he nodded.

"Yeah. Spreads happiness wherever he goes," Jerry muttered sadly. "I just don't want this to turn him into something sad, y'know? He doesn't deserve this. He should always be the happy little boy he has been, despite everything."

Sam leaned forward to watch Jerry's uncomfortable face. "We will do everything we can to make sure that happens," he said earnestly. "But how do you mean, despite everything?"

"Being psychic," Jerry shrugged. "He's going to grow up like that, amongst all this. I know I'm going to be a lonely old man all my life - I don't take the really nasty jobs, I do fringe work, enough to keep me in on the good side. I have a small home business that pays all the bills and keeps me in a little extra, like toy-money for Wai Jai, but… I guess I'll have to be his legal guardian now. I'm all he's got."

"Hey," Sam said gently with an earnest smile, "he's got us, now."

"Dean doesn't seem to want him around so much," Jerry stated flatly.

"Oooh, I don't know," Sam havered on a sigh. "He puts up a fight, but I think Wai Jai's growing on him."

.

* * *

.

Sam got back to the motel just as the clock in the Impala read nine thirty in the evening. He squeaked out of the car and into the motel room, finding the lights out and everything silent. He went to the washroom, flicking the switch to let some light cast across the room.

A large KFC bucket sat on the table under the window, evidence of a clear-up after a huge feast surrounding it. A towel had been hung up to dry by the curtains and a tiny pair of jeans was folded neatly on top of other small clothes.

In the bed closest the door Dean was asleep, completely and in every way dead to the world under the blankets. It seemed his jeans and t-shirt had been dumped in a heap on the wooden chair under the window, his boots strewn around underneath, mixed in with a pair of tiny ones. He was on his front, his bare shoulder and arm hanging over the side of the bed as if he had dropped from a great height. Sam noticed his amulet was hanging from the headboard. He heard a small noise and realised Wai Jai was snuggled under a small blanket, as if he were in his own personal sleeping bag. His head was buried in the bedcovers over Dean's back, his little hands holding onto the man's blanket. Suddenly Sam envied how comfortable the two of them looked.

He let his head tilt for a long moment, surprised and distracted at how easily the little boy seemed to have broken down his older brother's gruff walls. He shook his head and went into the bathroom.

When he came out, he went to his brother's duffle on the table and searched through for what he wanted. He took the collection of items and put them in jacket pockets or his own duffle before picking up the car keys again.

He spared the two sleepers one last look that was perhaps laced with a fond smile, then let himself out of the motel again.

He went straight to the Impala, checked the address of Jerry's failed clearance, and turned the car around. Confident of his abilities as a seasoned hunter, he made good time to the cordoned-off house, a good twenty minutes' drive from the motel.

So he couldn't see Chiu-Wai open his eyes in the darkness of the motel room. Nor could he hear the tiny whimper of fear from the small child, as words were whispered into his ear.

.

.

* * *

_Thanks for reading, and your reviews and comments, people! They keep me going :)_

_And yes, in Cantonese (and in Hong Kong, anyway!) 'chicken' means hooker. :)_


	7. 七 Seven

**七**

**(Seven)**

.

Chiu-Wai let out an ear-splitting shriek of fear. Dean jerked awake as the little boy put his hands to the relatively enormous Winchester shoulder and pushed at it.

"Dihn uncle! Dihn uncle!" he shouted in terror.

"Yeah! Alright!" Dean protested, lifting his head off the pillow and looking around blearily. "What now?" he asked, rolling round to an elbow to see the dark room. "Sam?" he called.

"Sammy! Sammy, leh! 有危險! 快啲! 快啲!" Chiu-Wai shouted, still pushing at the adult.

"Mini Dude, hold on a second!" Dean snapped.

The boy drew his hands back, struggling free of the blankets and pushing himself off the edge of the bed. The huge t-shirt of Dean's that he had adopted as his pyjamas reached his knees, but it didn't stop him running to his pile of clothes on the chair.

Dean ripped the blankets back, leaping out of bed and checking the bathroom was empty. "Sam!" he called again, before he went to the window and pulled back the curtain. "Damn it! He's got my car!" he cursed.

"我哋要去幫 Sammy, 啊!" Chiu-Wai called desperately, falling over as he rushed to get his jeans on. "快啲!"

Dean looked at him, back at the empty parking lot, and then snatched up his jeans. He was dressed in under thirty seconds. Chiu-Wai was still struggling with his socks as Dean ran to the bed, retrieving his amulet and ramming it over his ears. He went for his duffle, looking through it quickly and pulling out assorted things. He felt a tug on his jeans and turned.

"Mini Dude!" he blurted, realising the boy was still there. He paused, looking around the room suddenly. He took a deep breath. "I can't leave you here. I don't want to take you, but… I don't have a choice," he ground out. "You stick close to me, kid, got it?"

Chiu-Wai looked up at him hopefully, blinking in confusion.

"You have no idea what I'm saying," Dean groaned. He crouched down and put his hand out, taking the boy's firmly. He raised their hands between their eyes. "You don't let go of me." He shook their interlocked hands slightly. "Huh?"

"Okie dokie," Chiu-Wai nodded solemnly. Dean let a small smile fight for its place on his lips before he straightened them out again.

"Right. All we have to do now is steal a car and rescue Sam. Easy."

.

* * *

.

Sam slipped in through the front door, pulling the EMF meter from his pocket. He flipped it on, walking down the hallway and poking his head round a door. He drew back, finding nothing but yellow tape and bloody patches. He walked on until he found the kitchen, stopping over another patch of blood that still had police markers stuck in it. He crouched down and looked the floor over carefully.

"I have no clue what I'm looking for," he breathed to himself. "Until I find it."

He straightened up slowly, going to the far wall and looking at the few Chinese watercolours hanging there. He gazed at them for a long moment, lost in the delicate strokes and achingly beautiful images.

He heard a slight click and turned quickly. He passed the still quiet EMF meter to his left hand, finding his Taurus handgun with the other. He waited for more movement but heard nothing. Walking to the door of the kitchen, he listened intently as the hair on the back of his neck started to stand on end.

Another click, this one from behind him. He froze, listening.

The EMF meter suddenly lit up, the needle spiking until it slammed all the way over. Sam flicked it off to stop the noise. He whirled around.

A single plate hurled itself across the room. Sam dodged. It smashed against the wooden door. Another plate lifted, then a chair. He ducked the plate but threw himself sideways to avoid the chair. He backed up and round the door, cocking the handgun and keeping it out in front of him.

"Ok - wait!" he called. "I'm not here to hurt you!" _Kinda! _"Let me know what you want!"

An almighty crash came from the kitchen and he stopped. He waited, listening. He realised the entity was still having a whale of a time smashing things in the one room. He crept forward, toward the door. He swallowed nervously even as he pushed the door more open.

A knife flew dangerously close to his head. He hissed a single curse and plastered himself to the doorjamb. Hearing cutlery move he grabbed the kitchen door and slammed it shut in front of him. Small heavy items thunked into the other side and he breathed out.

Until the doorknob was wrenched from his grip. The door flew open. Sam looked up, still seeing nothing. The drawers began to slide open of their own accord, metal and cloth and everything inside flying out. He ducked as towels and then glass coasters whizzed at his head.

The microwave was next. He didn't see it. But then, after it had collided with his head, he saw nothing anyway.

.

* * *

.

Dean kept his hands on the wheel, trying to ignore the annoyed chatter of the five-year-old next to him in the passenger seat. Chiu-Wai appeared to be snapping angrily at himself, his little hand waving at his ear as if mosquitoes had deemed him their new watering hole.

"Mini Dude, quit it," he said shortly. The boy looked over at him, flailing his hand once more before falling silent and still. "When we get to the house, you-. Why am I telling you? You can't understand me anyway." He blew out a frustrated sigh, watching the dark night speed past their stolen Camaro.

He turned the corner and brought the car to a stop outside the house. He leapt out and round, opening the passenger door and supporting Chiu-Wai's arm, helping him push himself down from the large seat. He shut the door and gripped the boy's hand, hurrying round the car.

They stopped at the Impala, Dean trying the passenger door and finding it unlocked. He opened it and picked up Chiu-Wai. He sat him on the seat and crouched in front of him.

"You," he said clearly, pointing at him, "stay in _here_." He patted the seat with both hands either side of the boy. "Ok?"

"好," Chiu-Wai nodded. Dean got up to close the door but the boy reached out and grabbed his sleeve. Dean turned back to him. "Dihn uncle, 你小心!"

"Right," Dean nodded uncertainly. Chiu-Wai put his hands over his head as if it were raining. Dean copied him. "Like this?"

"做噉樣!" he nodded, apparently pleased.

Dean shrugged to himself before stepping back and squeaking the car door closed. He tapped the window twice and Chiu-Wai waved him away urgently. Dean turned and ran up to the house.

The front door was unlocked and he pushed at it warily. He drew the gun from his pocket, keeping it behind him as he crept in. He heard crashes and tinkles from the rear of the house and hurried down the hallway. He pushed at the kitchen door, prompting it to creak open. He winced at the noise, realising the crashing had stopped.

He found assorted crockery and items littered about the floor. A sizeable microwave was standing on its side as if it had fallen from a great height, the perspex front cracked from some kind of impact. He noticed the small pool of blood on the tiles and cocked the gun, creeping further into the room.

He crouched slowly and dipped a finger into the blood. _Still warm_, he sniffed, looking around the kitchen. His eyes caught the wipe marks near the back door, the swathes cut in the porcelien rubble of smashed plates. He straightened and followed it to the door, looking through the window. All he saw was a tidy garden with a small wooden shed at the end.

_Where are you, Sam? _

He huffed, shrugging into his jacket and keeping the gun ready in his right hand. He pushed the door open quietly. He walked out of the back door and looked at the ground in the darkness, trying to use the moon to see if there were any tracks to follow.

A slow boot on the stone path, and then another. He crouched, spying a dark blob and hoping it was and wasn't Sam's blood. He reached a finger in and found it to be blood at least. He squinted in the darkness, trying to see further than the few paving slabs in front of him.

A tiny noise. He looked right. The only thing in his line of sight was the shed. He got up and immediately stole toward it. As he got within three feet of the black window something rumbled inside. He crept up to the window, making sure he had a good hold on the gun before leaning up and looking in.

Nothing moved. He kept his head still, his eyes darting from side to side to check as far as he could see. He detected movement and looked. The next moment the glass smashed into his face. He jumped back, his hand half-raised against the shower. He lifted the gun, shaking his head free of shards. Something took hold of his hand. He wrenched it back, surprised when it came free. He scrambled back to the window.

"Sam!" he shouted.

His brother was lying on the floor, traces of blood around him and gardening tools splayed every which way.

Dean ran round to the door and booted at the doorknob. It gave easily and he was in the hut. As he sped toward his brother a large garden fork raised itself from the boards.

Dean lifted his hand and fired a salt round straight at it. It hit the wooden handle and salt exploded around the hut. A scream echoed, turning Dean's blood to ice for a second. He gripped his brother's shirtfront and yanked.

"Sam! Sammy! Get up!" he growled. He kept an eye on the tools around him as he leaned forward and grabbed the jacket over Sam's shoulder. He wrenched. Sam began to blink as he was hauled to almost sit up.

"Dean?" he managed.

"You got all your hands?" he demanded roughly.

"Uh - yeah - I think-"

"Get up. We are leaving," he said clearly. Sam put a hand to his brother's sleeve and between them they had him standing. Sam swayed and Dean inserted himself under his arm, walking him to the door.

A slight clink was their only warning. Dean's head turned to look back over his shoulder. Two hoes and a rather large chainsaw were leaning his way.

"Ok. We're going _now_," he urged, pushing at his brother to go faster. He shoved Sam out of the door, not caring as the altitudinous Winchester stumbled in the grass. Dean turned and fired off three rounds. Each one hit an implement. They fell to the wooden boards. A spade lifted from the wall. Dean fired but ran.

He stopped before he wanged into his brother. Dean hauled him up and turning them to run. They began to speed off. Dean bumbled into something and went down in a heap.

"Dean!" Sam gasped, reaching down for him.

"Dihn uncle! 我好擔心你收傷!" Chiu-Wai squealed in terror underneath the sprawled Winchester.

Dean got to his hands and knees, finding the small boy fallen on the grass, his hands up for help.

"What the Hell? I said _stay in the car_, Wai Jai!" he shouted. A spade flew out of the hut.

Sam jumped back and landed on his backside. "Dean! Incoming!" he managed, out of breath. The tool whizzed safely past them.

Dean grabbed the boy. Another spade flew out of the hut. The edge swept toward them. Chiu-Wai was completely encased in Winchester. The shovel stopped dead and fell to the grass.

"Car," Sam managed, trying to get to his feet.

"You think?" Dean grunted. He let go of the boy, who was struggling to push the large man up off him. He talked at Dean faster and faster, grabbing the collar of his jacket and pushing. "Ok, Mini Dude, give me a second," Dean managed, annoyed at his own lethargy. "I'm about seventy years older than you, alright?"

He got to his feet and Chiu-Wai gripped his left hand, yanking him onwards, back toward the house. Sam followed dumbly, looking back at the fallen spade in curiosity. The three of them staggered to the home, Sam and Dean leaning on the wall to look back at the house in the moonlight.

"Someone's gonna call in those shots," Dean observed, his voice weary.

Sam looked at him. "Yeah." He put a hand to his head. "I can get to the car. C'mon."

Chiu-Wai pulled on Dean's hand, ordering something that the boys correctly guessed to be a retreat. They staggered and stumbled to the Impala, rolling into the car, Chiu-Wai crawling up on Sam's lap.

Dean started the car, reversing her out and ignoring the stolen Camaro still sitting by the driveway. He turned the Impala round and headed off at a cautious speed, feeling his head dip slightly. He shook it and sat up, blinking to clear his vision.

Chiu-Wai put his hands to Sam's face, turning it down to look at him. He said something that sounded distinctly worried.

"Wai Jai, I'm fine," Sam asserted, taking the small boy's hands from his face and smiling at him in bewildered amusement. The boy nodded to himself, apparently satisfied, and turned to sit on the large Winchester's lap so he could see where they were headed.

Dean felt the sweat and light-headedness and straightened deliberately. He sped up, earning him a worried look from Sam, as he rounded the next block of houses, and then the next.

When they were out on the open road he brought the car to a stop and pushed her into Park.

"What?" Sam asked, worried. He checked all the mirrors. "What is it?"

Dean leaned forward and rested his left forearm across the width of the steering wheel comfortably. His right hand went down behind him. He hissed and lifted it out again, finding it awash with blood. Sam put his hand out and pushed his brother back into the seat to see the blood on his hand. Chiu-Wai slapped his hands to his face, aghast. Sam covered the boy's eyes quickly.

"Sammy?" Dean mumbled, his eyes half-closed. "Think you better drive for a while."

His head tilted back and he passed out.

.

.

.

* * *

_Da da da daaaaaa! Heee! Thanks for waiting for this update, and I really appreciate your comments! Thanks!_


	8. 八 Eight

**八**

**(Eight)**

.

Sam ignored the slight sting of the minor cuts on his face, sniffing and paging through the magazine slowly. He heard the rattle of pencils and paused to make sure Chiu-Wai was still busy drawing and colouring. The lad was perched on the right side of a hospital bed, his little legs out straight and under the table positioned over the official occupant of the bed, an insensate Winchester. Sam's eyes ran over the happy youngster scribbling and humming to himself, and then over his sleeping brother. He looked peaceful, rested. And pale.

_He always looks pale in hospitals. Every damn time_. He put his attention back to the magazine quickly.

"La!" Chiu-Wai proclaimed suddenly, looking up from the table. He picked up his sketchbook and turned it around, supported by the table, to brandish it at Sam. "Dihn uncle 會唔會中意呀?" he asked earnestly.

Sam looked from his sleeping brother in the bed to the small boy holding up a swirling, whirling image. The top edge was yellow, the middle whirlwinds of black, turning to green for the bottom.

"It's… uhm, very nice," Sam ventured. Chiu-Wau jabbed a thumb at it, and then at Dean meaningfully. "Oh! Yes, I'm sure Dean will like it," Sam nodded faithfully.

Chiu-Wai clicked his tongue happily and put the book down again, chatting to himself merrily as he put a hand out. He patted Dean's arm without even looking before picking up more colours and going about his business.

"You know what," Sam said with a sly smile, "I'm just going to see your _other_ uncle." Chiu-Wai looked up at him as he got to his feet, putting down his magazine. "Me," Sam said clearly, pointing to his own chest, "go," he added, walking his fingers across his front, "to see uncle Jerry. Ok?"

"Okie dokie," Chiu-Wai nodded. "我同 Dihn uncle 一齊休息." And he went back to colouring.

Sam grinned and then walked out of the room, heading down the hall and round a few corners. He eventually found room 379 and knocked on the door. He went in to find Jerry just lifting himself out of bed.

"Oh, Sam," he said. "I was just going to walk the halls again, try and find out when I can leave."

"Well take a load off for a moment," Sam said heavily.

"What is it?"

"Dean's in here too - down the hall. I went to do a little digging back at the house last night and the poltergeist got me."

"Are you ok?" Jerry asked, leaning back against the bed and taking in the scratches on Sam's face.

"Yeah, I'm good. Dean got hit by a spade, though." Sam waved at Jerry before he could interrupt. "He'll be fine. Lost a bit of blood but other than that, he's ok."

"Well… I'm sorry about all this," Jerry said miserably. "I really am. I've just put us all in this huge mess and maybe… maybe I shouldn't have."

"How do you mean?" Sam asked, folding his arms.

"Well… I was thinking. The only reason my sis wanted the poltergeist out of her house was cos Wai Jai was there. She thought it had something to do with him being psychic and it freaked her out - she wanted this 'monster' gone from her home so her son would be safe."

"But…?"

"But… it was quiet, y'know? It wasn't exactly a harmful thing."

"I got that from your notes - they indicated it only started harming people once you thought you'd completed the clearance." Sam looked at the floor for a long moment. "Oh."

"Oh what?"

"What if you _did_ complete the clearance?" he pressed. "What if you _did_ get rid of the poltergeist?"

"Then what chopped my hand off? What whacked Dean over the head with a spade?" Jerry cried, puzzled.

"It wasn't his head," Sam said dismissively, "it was his back."

"What?"

"But it must have been aiming for-." He stopped dead, looking up. "I have a theory," he announced. "Stay here. I'll pick up Chiu-Wai and get back to the motel - I have a little research to do to figure this thing out."

"But what about-"

"Stay," Sam said firmly, already turning and barrelling out of the room. He swept down the corridor, finding room 420 and putting his hand on the doorknob. He heard voices and paused for some unknown reason.

"Nnggh? What?" - definitely his brother's voice. "Wait a second, I just opened my eyes-. What's this?"

Excited jabbering from Chiu-Wai. A grunt or two from Dean. Quiet.

"Holy cr- crayons. That's the Impala, right?" Dean sounded surprised, if not extremely pleased. "This is… awesome." Silence for a moment. "You drew this for me?" Excited jabbering in Cantonese. High-pitched giggles and low-pitched chuckles, and then Dean cleared his throat. "It's awesome - really. I'll keep it with me."

Sam bit his lip, really not knowing how to feel. He sniffed in indecision, thinking about breaking up the little bonding moment, until he heard more voices.

"Y'know… When this thing is done, me and Sam are leaving-. Don't touch that. -But if you want us to come back, you just ask Jerry, ok? What am I saying, you don't even know what I'm-." A sigh. "Thanks for the picture. It's the best thing anyone's ever given me. Well, after that cardboard Christmas tree Sammy gave me one year. Man, that was the best. And this - this is just awesome. I'll say it again - it's _awesome_."

"Hi fi?" came Chiu-Wai's giggly voice.

"High five," Dean confirmed, and there was a slapping sound.

Sam cleared his throat noisily, turning the doorknob with more jiggling than was needed to herald his entrance. He walked in to find Chiu-Wai kneeling on the bed next to a sat-up Dean. The boy had his arms round his neck, squeezing for dear life. Dean had a piece of paper in one hand and his other hand pressing firmly into the boy's back, his eyes closed in discomfort.

Dean opened his eyes and found Sam watching him with his arms folded and an amused look on his face.

"Oh, ah, hey Sam," Dean said quickly, patting at the boy's back. Chiu-Wai took the hint and let go, turning to look at the taller Winchester.

"Sammy!" he cried happily. "Dihn uncle 好中意我畫俾佢嘅畫!" he added gleefully.

"He drew me a picture," Dean said weakly, managing a self-conscious nod before his ears started to turn bright red.

"That's nice," Sam observed cooly, his eyes positively snapping with laughter at the awkward embarrassment on his brother's face. "I have an idea about this poltergeist thing."

"That's even better," Dean nodded, looking around the room as if he had lost something. "How do I get out of here?"

"You don't; they've just stitched you up and they say they want to keep you in for observation."

"What?" Dean protested.

"And don't get the doctor started on the condition of your liver," Sam warned. "I need Wai Jai and my laptop to check a few things - then I'll swing by here before I do anything."

"You better," Dean said firmly. "Do _not_ go back to that place by yourself," he ordered.

"I won't." Sam looked down at Chiu-Wai. "Come on, let's go," he said, waving him toward him.

"Oh. 我要走?" he asked. He looked back at Dean. "好啦, 我會好快返嚟. 你休息吓, Dihn uncle."

"Um, okie dokie," he shrugged helplessly, showing that completely, obliviously and in every other conceivable way he was _not_ following the conversation.

"你," Chiu-Wai said clearly, pointing at Dean's rather unattractive hospital gown over his chest, "休息吓," he added, putting one hand under his face and turning it sideways, his eyes closed and his mouth making little snoring noises.

Dean grinned. "Ok," he allowed.

"Okie dokie," Chiu-Wai chirped, taking his sketchbook and sliding off the high bed. He landed on his feet, tucking the book under his arm and looking at Sam expectantly. "第一," he said, lifting a single finger, "我要去睇 Jerry uncle. 第二," he added, straightening a second digit to count them off, "我哋要搵到 chickee soos. 好唔好?" he asked hopefully.

Sam looked up at his brother, who shrugged, then back down at the boy.

"Um, ok," he nodded.

Chiu-Wai nodded, waving his little hand at Dean. He lifted a hand in reply and Chiu-Wai put his hand out, grabbing Sam's firmly as if the tall adult needed help crossing the road. The wee lad pulled at the altitudinous Winchester to leave. Sam looked at his brother, but as he and Chiu-Wai left the room, he noticed Dean was already much too busy studying his new picture to notice their movements.

.

* * *

.

Sam and Chiu-Wai sat on Dean's bed in the motel room, the little boy sketching and singing happily to himself. Sam and his laptop logged on to a hundred and one different news sites as the Winchester did his utmost to confirm his theory.

"We jes tok bout foo!" Chiu-Wai sang suddenly. "Fog bout pa! Aways be us - is neh go die!" He looked up at Sam hopefully, waving his little hands at him. "Loh an low an noy pooshun! Loh an low an go die!"

Sam just blinked.

Chiu-Wai frowned, then took another deep breath. "Loh an low an noy pooshun! Loh an low an go die!" he sang again, then clapped his hands twice at Sam.

"Rock and roll ain't noise pollution," Sam managed, trying to bend his voice to the right notes. "Rock and roll ain't gonna die-"

"Ai-_yaa_!" Chiu-Wai heaved in frustration, before waving his hands at him. "你唔識唱啊! 而家我好掛主 Dihn uncle, la!"

"Thanks," Sam blinked, recognising the child wanted him to stop singing. "I'll be sure and _not_ tell Dean about this. He thinks my singing stinks as it is."

"La," Chiu-Wai added suddenly, "chickee soos." He turned the sketchbook round and Sam glanced at it. Then he looked again.

"Chicken shoes," he echoed. "Chicken shoes! Wai Jai - you are a _genius_!" he cried happily.

The small boy watched, oblivious, as Sam paged back through a few news reports. He found a picture and enlarged it, turning the laptop toward the boy.

"Like _these_ 'chicken shoes'?" he asked quickly.

Chiu-Wai squinted at the laptop before nodding amiably. "係啦, chickee soos," he confirmed.

Sam turned the laptop back and stared at the picture - of a young man arrested for stealing, while wearing his _Le coq sportif_ training shoes, a large white triangle containing a blue cock emblazoned on the side.

.

* * *

.

Dean smiled, opening the door of the Impala. He climbed out and squeaked the door shut, looking around the quiet afternoon. He walked slowly to the end of the path in front of the rather large house before him.

The sounds of a child's laughter floated over the warm breeze and Dean stopped by the path, taking a deep breath of summer air. Then he put his hands in his back pockets, walking up the path toward the front door. He fumbled for his keys in his jeans pocket until the door clicked and opened.

A willowy, older woman stood there smiling. "Afternoon, Mr Winchester," she said professionally. "Back from your hunt so soon?"

"Daddy!" came a squeal of delight. A shock of black hair and a streak of sunshine pushed past the lady and grabbed for him.

Dean picked him up and swung him onto his arm, getting two little arms round his neck for his trouble.

"Hey, Shortround. How's it going?" he grinned. Chiu-Wai simply chuckled and pushed his head into Dean's hair.

The lady reached out and tousled the boy's hair. "Come in, sir, you must be tired. Dinner is prepared."

"Thanks, Angela," Dean nodded. He carried Chiu-Wai in until the boy started squirming. He paused in the large hall to play-fight with and tickle the small boy.

"So you're back," came a voice.

Dean and Chiu-Wai looked up to see Sam walking down the large, ornate staircase.

"How was the gig?" Sam asked.

"Oh, aced it," Dean nodded. "Told you it would be easy."

"No demons? No angels? Just straightforward?"

"Oh yeah. Nice to get back to normal," Dean nodded. He set the boy's feet on the floor. "Go on, wash up."

Chiu-Wai sped off, leaving the brothers to watch after him.

"So I was thinking about asking Sarah to come over this holiday," Sam said conversationally.

"Really? Cool. If she still remembers who you are," Dean teased.

"Oh, she'll remember," Sam said smugly.

A scream. A crash. The brothers paused, stunned. Then they ran at the kitchen.

"No no no no!" Dean managed, hurling the door wide open to see in.

Broken plates. A smashed microwave. Chairs tipped over. And little Chiu-Wai - innocent, happy Chiu-Wai - in bloody pieces on the tiles.

"_No!_" Dean raged.

He found himself sat up in bed in a strange room that didn't even look like a motel. He swallowed and looked around, finding no body parts, no large houses, no Sam and no flurry of movement.

He wiped his hands over his face, feeling his hands shake slightly. He looked out at the room through his fingers, making sure it was still the hospital. The blinds were still moving gently in the breeze of the air-con, the blankets still white, the bed still creaking as he held his breath.

He blew it all out, forcing himself to calm down and shake off the cold fear that had stabbed at his normally well-sealed heart. He swallowed again, looking around the room and spying a phone on the side table. He snatched up the receiver, pausing to think furiously. He murmured to himself before finding the right numbers in his head and pressing the buttons quickly.

He wiped his forehead with his arm, finding it wet and hot. The line clicked in his ear.

"Sam?" he blurted. "Where's Wai Jai? He ok?"

There was a pause. "Dean? He's fine, the little guy's with me. You ok?" He hesitated, but then Dean could hear trepidation in his voice. "You sound spooked, man. What is it?"

"You're both ok, right? Please tell me you're at the motel!" he demanded shakily.

"Yeah - yeah we're fine and yeah, we're at the motel. Why? You sound like crap."

"I - ah… I just… It's just… I needed to-"

A thin voice cut into his havering and he stopped short to listen.

"Dihn uncle?" came the chipper voice. "Hah low!" it added happily.

"Uh - hi, uhm, Wai Jai," he managed, not sure what had shaken him up more, the image of the blood on the floor or the memory of what the little lad had called him at the front door. He fell back to the sheets gratefully. "Sammy, ok?"

"Okie dokie," he chirped, and he heard something rub over the phone.

"Hey, Dean," Sam's voice took over. "You sure you're ok? Wai Jai just dropped all his pencils in fright."

"When was this?"

"About a minute before you called," Sam said, his voice curious. "Are you still in the hospital?"

"Yeah - yeah," he sighed, wiping his face again. "Yeah, no, yeah, I'm ok. I'm ok," he reiterated.

"You sure? You want m- us to come down there?"

"I'm not five, Sam. I've stayed in hospitals all on my lonesome before," he said, with an attempt to be sarcastic. It sounded weak even to his ears.

"Right," Sam's voice judged. "Well I may have an idea about how all this is going wrong. You rest up, we'll wait here, and then we'll come down tomorrow. Ok?"

"Yeah," Dean breathed. "Yeah. Just… keep an eye on Mini Dude, will you?"

"I will," Sam replied, and his brother could hear the confused shrug he had just made.

"Cool. See you tomorrow."

"Yeah."

Dean leaned over and let the phone drop into the cradle. He collapsed into the sheets, putting his hands to his eyes and rubbing.

"Gettin' too old for this," he grumped, suddenly feeling much more like himself.

.

* * *

_Indiana Jones' Shortround FTW!_


	9. 九 Nine

**九**

**(Nine)**

.

"Right, so… bear with me," Sam said seriously, sitting back and putting his elbows on the arms of the wooden chair. "This poltergeist is in the house, and it's quiet. It's also really powerful - it can cause electrical problems, flash lights and open doors, et cetera. But it doesn't actually harm anyone. Then," he said, leaning up to the laptop and folding the screen down, "Jerry comes along and dispels it, because Mrs Leung doesn't want it in the same house as her boy. Jerry thinks he's failed, because the poltergeist then leaps up and attacks him, chopping his hand off. Then it does the same to Mr and Mr Leung, and… uh, clears the house of occupants, shall we say."

He got up, picking up the rather small American football from the similarly size-challenged rucksack on Dean's bed, rolling it in his large hands.

"And then it attacks me and tries to take my hand off too - which Dean stopped. It was trying to take Dean's hand, but he got hit in the back instead. Now we're left with a poltergeist that is trying to keep hands. What for? Why didn't it do it before?" He paused and turned, looking at Dean's bed. "With me so far?"

"係啦," Chiu-Wai nodded, waving at him to continue.

"Right. So I think your uncle Jerry _did_ dispel the poltergeist - the real one. This second one was staying away while the first one - the _benign_ one - was there. Now the first one's gone, this vicious one is trying to collect hands. You've identified a possible suspect as…" He went back to the laptop, leaning over to look. "Roger Davenham - twenty-one years old, arrested for theft, lost his hand in a prison fight and died. That would explain the hands." He looked up at the small boy. "So why is he here?"

Chiu-Wai blinked at him, then shrugged. He looked at Sam's bed suddenly. "_Dihn-wah_," he advised, pointing.

Sam looked round at his silent Blackberry. "Phone?" he asked. He looked back at the boy but the phone suddenly began to ring on the bedcovers. "Thanks," he smiled, turning to it. He picked it up and answered it. "Hello?"

"Sam, hi, it's me," came Jerry's voice. "Any ideas yet?"

"As a matter of fact, yes," Sam nodded. "Wai Jai's been helping me wade through it."

"He has?"

"Kinda. Can I call you back? We may be onto something here."

"Ok. Is Dean with you?"

"No - he's still resting up in the hospital. He should be back on the job tomorrow."

"Tomorrow? That's fast - I thought you said he had stitches in his back?"

"Yeah well, he's had worse. Sounds like he's itching to get this done and dusted."

"Don't blame him," Jerry sighed. "I'm still trapped here. More grafting and testing tomorrow."

"Good luck - you want us to bring Wai Jai down to see you?"

"Uh… Not just yet. I still need some time."

"I understand. Try and rest," Sam nodded. The line went dead and he let the phone drop, turning to look at the boy. "So what you and I have to do now is find out why the spirit of Roger Davenham is stuck inside your house."

"Okie dokie," Chiu-Wai nodded, comfortably oblivious to what Sam had just said.

.

* * *

.

Sam held Chiu-Wai's hand tightly as they walked down the hospital corridor. He knocked on the door to room 420 and heard his brother's voice within. He pushed the door open and the boy let go of his hand to aid and abet his running inside.

Dean was already dressed, which was about as ready to go as he seemed to be happy with. Sam leant on the doorjamb, folding his arms, as he took in the blond nurse currently squeezing his brother's arm and smiling.

"Dihn uncle!" Chiu-Wai squealed in delight.

Dean looked down as he collided with his leg, grabbing onto his jeans and jumping up and down excitedly.

"Mini Dude," he protested.

"Oh, what a sweetie," the nurse gushed, watching the small boy tug at Dean's knee. "Is he with you?"

Dean looked up at her, his slightly annoyed look morphing into charm hotter than the sun. "Yeah, he's with me - ain't you, Mini Dude?" He picked up the young lad and Chiu-Wai flung his arms round his neck immediately.

"Awww! He's so sweet!" she cooed, as the boy turned and looked at her shyly. "And he loves you. Oh, don't you two just look cute enough to eat," she sighed, taking in their matching grins.

"That an offer?" Dean smirked.

"Well it is for you, if you don't lose my number," she winked. She put her hand to Chiu-Wai's cheek to tickle it gently, making him giggle, before she waved her fingers at Dean. She picked up a clipboard and walked out of the room.

Dean and Chiu-Wai's heads tilted in an identical manoeuvre to watch her go. The object of their gazes may have been slightly apart, but they had a very similar look of appreciation on their faces.

"Waaaah. 佢真係好靚," the small boy managed, his voice a wibbly breath of awe and wonder.

"You said it, Mini Dude," Dean muttered, pre-occupied.

"You done?" Sam asked politely, breaking their concentration.

"Uh - yeah," Dean said quickly, blinking and clearing his throat. "I think we're good to go here."

"Good. Because your 'Mini Dude' has cracked the case, and I think I know what's keeping the poltergeist here," he said proudly.

"He has? Well alright," Dean grinned, looking at the boy on his arm.

"Hi fi?" Chiu-Wai offered.

"High five," Dean nodded, slapping at his raised palm. He looked at Sam. "Well come on then, can't stand around here yakking."

Sam's eyes leapt into the roller-coaster car, gripping the rail in front and screaming bloody fun as they rolled a complete three hundred and sixty degrees around the track of his eyes sockets. They squealed in fun as they came to an abrupt halt, panting in excited exhaustion and climbing out of the car rather shakily.

Sam, oblivious to the fun his eyes had just enjoyed, watched his brother and pint-sized cling-on walk out, Dean carrying his duffle in his free hand. Sam closed the door and followed them down the corridor.

.

* * *

.

"Ok, so get this," Sam said quickly, calling up a bookmarked page on his laptop and waiting for the painfully slow internet connection to fill in the blanks. "This guy, Roger Davenham, was a thief and a pickpocket. He was arrested in July of oh-five for stealing from a museum."

"A museum?" Dean asked, biting into the bacon cheeseburger with gusto. Chiu-Wai, sat at his right elbow, picked up his miniature hamburger. He looked at it, flicked his eyes up at Dean and his burger, and then attacked his child's version in the same way. "What the Hell's he doing stealing from a museum?"

"Well that's where it gets interesting," Sam said eagerly, pacing the room beyond the laptop screen at which Dean was squinting. "He didn't usually go for such big scores, but this time he did and he got caught - after he stashed the stolen property. He went to prison, the paintings were never found, and then he got into a fight inside. He lost a hand-"

"A hand? Like Jerry and-"

"Yes. Don't interrupt," Sam said curtly.

Dean's eyebrows pointed upwards as if looking for somewhere to plant themselves on the ceiling. He sniffed and took another bite of the cheeseburger. Chiu-Wai put his burger down and attempted to reach the open carton of milk, but it was slightly out of reach. Dean used his teeth to hold on to the burger while he put his hands out and moved a few wrappers and the milk, guiding it into the boy's grasp.

"唔該," Chiu-Wai said dutifully.

Dean took the burger from his mouth. "You're welcome," he said automatically. He looked up at Sam. "Well?"

"A few months later there was another fight and he was taken to the hospital outside. He died, cursing and spitting, apparently - telling the warders and everyone else involved that he'd 'come back to get them'."

"Whoa - vengeful spirit material right there," Dean nodded, biting his burger again. Chiu-Wai set down his milk and copied him faithfully.

"Exactly. Meanwhile, skip to oh-six and Mr and Mrs Leung are buying a new house out here."

"Yeah, and? How did Mr Slashy get into their house?"

"I'm getting to that," Sam said irritably. "When I was in there before, when it grabbed me, I saw something in the kitchen."

Chiu-Wai sat back, apparently done with his meal. Dean noticed and picked up the milk carton, shaking it slightly.

"Finish your milk," he instructed, setting it down in front of the lad.

Chiu-Wai eyed it. "我唔想飲埋," he protested, wrinkling his nose at it.

"Hey," Dean said, not exactly sharply, but hard enough to make the boy look at him. He swished the milk again. "Finish it, Mini Dude. It's good for you. Or somethin'."

Chiu-Wai folded his arms petulantly.

Dean's head tilted slightly and he gazed at the small boy using all of his three decades of forbearance. "Milk," he ordered.

Chiu-Wai put his hands out but instead of taking the milk he was clearly aiming for Dean's open brown bottle.

"Ah-ah-ah," Dean scolded, picking it up with his free hand and moving it away. "Milk, Mini Dude. No milk, no TV, you get me?"

Chiu-Wai turned and checked the television set behind him before looking back at Dean. He grumbled something but took the milk, pushing the straw in his mouth and sucking reluctantly. Dean dropped his hand on the boy's head, tousling his hair gently, making Chiu-Wai's expression turn much more accommodating.

"Excuse me? Hello?" Sam prompted.

"What?" Dean asked, withdrawing his hand before he looked at his brother.

"You done, _Dad_?" he asked. The moment the word had left his mouth he regretted it. He waited for the snippy reply. But there wasn't one.

Dean was looking at him as if Sam had just told him he was in fact Ronald McDonald in full regalia. His face paled slightly before he shoved the cheeseburger in his mouth, looking somewhat glad to be looking anywhere but his brother in a hasty fashion.

_What is going on with you, man?_ Sam wondered, in the privacy of his own head. Dean realised he hadn't been spoken to and looked up, finding his brother staring at him.

"What?" Dean managed gruffly through a mouthful of meat. "Get on with the story, Charlie Chan, it's getting late."

Sam backed away slightly. "Alright," he managed, keeping a lid on his feelings of awkwardness and curiosity. "So anyways… uhm… Yeah, so Mr and Mrs Leung bought this place in two thousand six. I'm guessing this was just after Wai Jai here appeared on the scene." He stopped and bit his lip, running a hand through his hair and looking a little less sure of himself.

"What?" Dean asked, rolling up the now empty burger wrapper and dropping it in the brown take-out bag.

"Well - that's where it call becomes a little… unproven."

"Excuse me?" Dean asked flatly.

"Well… I got this theory that a painting in their kitchen is one of the ones Davenham stole. It might have part of him attached to it somehow, and maybe that's why he's anchored to the house."

"So why'd he drag you out to the hut in the garden?"

"Uhm, maybe he was out of sharp tools in the kitchen?"

"Theory. Somehow. Maybe," Dean said scathingly, sitting back in the chair.

Chiu-Wai shuffled off his seat, landing on his feet and tapping at Dean's arm. "Dihn uncle, 我可唔可以睇電視, 唔該?" he asked hopefully.

"Uhm, what?" Dean asked, lost.

"_Dihn-sih_," Chiu-Wai repeated.

"Dean see what?" Dean prompted.

The boy turned and pointed at the television. "_Dihn-sih_," he said patiently.

Dean looked where his hand was pointing and then back at him. He lifted his hands and rubbed them together deliberately. "Wash your hands first," he instructed.

"Okie dokie," Chiu-Wai smiled. He patted the Winchester's knee before rushing off to the bathroom.

Dean shook his head, blowing out a weary sigh before turning back to the table. He froze, knowing full well Sam's concentrated attention was on him.

"I have an idea," Sam said quietly, putting his hands on the table and leaning his weight on them wearily. "You go play happy families with Wai Jai and I'll do all the work. Ok?"

Dean avoided his gaze, rubbing his nose casually. "Shut up, Sam," he managed gruffly, but his brother heard the tiny tell-tale break in the normally gruff voice. He watched Dean pick up the beer bottle and sip at it.

"You sure you should be drinking while he's here?" he asked, equally quietly. "If there's one thing we swore as kids, it was that we'd never do what Dad did if we ever-"

"Check the label, Sam," Dean sighed, sounding way past caring. "It's zero percent. Now are you gonna stop bitching like a nursemaid and actually tell me something we can use to toast this poltergeist with?"

Sam straightened, folding his arms resolutely. He heard Chiu-Wai come out of the washroom and bounce up onto Dean's bed, picking up the TV remote.

"Fine. You know when this is done and we've 'toasted the poltergeist', your new friend is going back to his uncle? His _real_ uncle?" he asked tonelessly.

"Why don't you ask me something useful - like did I bring lighter fluid and matches?" Dean growled suddenly, surprising his brother. He stood abruptly. "Yes, Sam, I know he's going home when we're done. And I don't need _you_ to tell me he's not part of our family and he's something neither of us will ever have. So stop twisting the knife and get us started here."

The last two surviving Winchesters watched each other's reactions, the sounds of Cartoon Network behind them.

"Ok," Sam nodded, looking at his feet.

Dean just sniffed and turned to go.

"Dean," Sam said quickly.

"What now? You want a hug or something?" Dean accused, but to Sam it sounded like an attempt to keep everything with which he was fighting on a very tight rein.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "That was below the belt. Wai Jai was right - you two are the same. You both lost your moms when you were just old enough to remember." He paused, swallowing. "I wasn't. Doesn't mean sometimes I don't wonder what it would be like, what life might have been, what family I'd have if-"

"Sam," Dean interrupted, his voice nearly a whisper. "Just… What do we do here? How do we finish this?"

Sam looked up at him, aware that perhaps the poltergeist was not the foremost topic on his brother's mind right at that moment. _He's asking for help_, he realised. _But I can't talk about… I just can't… Not with him. There's always that barrier, isn't there? So we'll just solve this case and it'll all go away. And we'll never mention the kids and marriage and family things we don't get. Ever again._ "We find out which painting the Leungs bought, not knowing it was one of the stolen ones," he offered quietly.

Dean watched him for what seemed like an eternity. "And we torch it?" he ventured.

"Yeah. And then it all stops. Jerry and Wai Jai can move on."

Dean put down the beer bottle, casting a thankful look his brother's way. "You don't move on," he said wisely. "You never move on. You just… leave."

He offered his brother a small, knowing smile before turning and heading for the bed. He pulled off his boots and put a hand to the small of his back, hissing slightly. Chiu-Wai shuffled over on the bed, patting it eagerly, and Dean sat down, flinging his legs out and getting comfortable, his head and shoulders on the pillow.

The small boy began to chat away to him, still holding the remote, as Dean put his hands behind his head and stared up at the ceiling. Sam watched as the small boy arranged himself securely against Dean's side, his head on his stomach. He held the remote in his lap and continued to giggle and pass comment on the cartoons on the screen.

Sam knew he was staring longingly. He made himself look away to the laptop and go through the names of the paintings on the official police file on the screen.

.

.

* * *

_Thanks for waiting for this update. I really luffs you, you readers, you!_


	10. 十 Ten

**十**

**(Ten)**

.

"Wai Jai?" Sam asked, looking up from the laptop suddenly. He turned on the chair and looked round at Dean's bed. He found the only other two in the room fast asleep, the television still playing away quietly enough, still on Cartoon Network.

Sam sighed, getting up and wandering over. He looked down at the small boy, his hand still tight around the television remote, his head still comfortably on the eldest Winchester. Dean's head was tilted back, his mouth slightly open. One hand was on the blankets by his side, the other on Chiu-Wai's back.

"It's not fair," Sam judged, turning away to the laptop again. _Why don't we get this? Why do we get crapped on by above - and below? We'll never get kids, have families. It's not fair_.

He saved everything he had found so far to the hard drive and the back-up memory stick, making a few notes in his book before shutting down the laptop. He walked past the bed and eyed the two of them.

"At least you're sleeping, this gig," he observed of his unconscious brother.

He wrested the remote from the small boy without waking him, turning off the television set. He turned out all the lights, stripped down to his shorts, and gave up on the evening. He climbed into his own bed and was asleep before he had finished cursing several angels and God Himself for he and his brother's lot in life.

.

* * *

.

Sam snorted with shock as he awoke, jerking his head up. He blinked, not knowing what had woken him. There was a comfortable-sounding sigh and he looked down at the sheets under him.

Nestled between his elbow and the mattress was a small boy, his eyes closed and a huge khaki Led Zeppelin t-shirt apparently keeping him snugly warm under the heavy blanket. He appeared to be fast asleep, one hand lying on the back of Sam's.

Sam's first reaction was to smile fondly. Then he cleared his throat and looked around the room quickly, making sure this was not a prank of his brother's, who would no doubt be standing there with a camera of some description.

He saw the washroom door closed and steam escaping from the top edge, along with a husky rendition of a tune apparently about good times and bad times. He relaxed.

"So Dean dumped you here so he could get in the shower," he realised, looking back down at the little lad. "Great."

The bathroom door opened a crack to let the steam out. Sam heard the continued sounds of his brother humming to himself and turned on his back, giving the small boy room as he sank back into the sheets.

_Long time since he's sounded this happy first thing in the morning_, he observed. _Maybe I've been hard on him. Yeah right - and maybe life has been pretty friggin' hard on us both._ He turned on his left side to look at the sleeping child. _What if, huh? What if._

"You awake?" Dean asked quietly from behind the door.

"Yeah," Sam called back softly.

A few seconds passed before the bathroom door opened wider. Dean, a dark blue fluffy towel wrapped round his waist, looked at his brother, his head tilting slightly. "What?" he asked carefully.

Sam bit his lip for a moment. Then he dared to meet his brother's curious gaze. "He's just so small," he offered.

Half of Dean's face smiled; the other half was much too self-conscious. "I heard that," he allowed, reaching for the toothpaste.

"Sometimes I wonder…" Sam paused, hesitant to continue.

Dean glanced at him. "What?"

"Well, you know… What it would have been like. I mean, if none of this crap had happened - if Jess and I had got married." He looked back down at the child, more to avoid his brother's silence than anything else. "We might have had kids like Wai Jai."

"Not unless she was banging the delivery boy from The Dragon Palace," Dean shrugged innocently, spreading toothpaste on his brush.

"You know what I mean," Sam tutted impatiently.

Dean's teasing smirk fell by degrees. "Yeah," he managed. He looked at the brush in his hand. "Maybe it's a good thing there's no kids after us," he added quietly.

"Why do you say that?" Sam asked, confused.

"Well look at us, Sammy. Not exactly a great family, huh? At least if we're the last of the line, it all ends here, right?" He eyed the brush but did not move.

"You have a point," Sam sighed. "Still…"

Dean sighed. "Still…"

"Would have been…"

Silence.

"Might have been…" Dean breathed, but let it flounder.

Silence.

"What?" Sam dared.

"I was gonna say… I don't know what I was gonna say," Dean admitted ruefully. "Kids, man. They make you old."

Sam grinned suddenly, nodding. "Yeah. Think of all those years we turned Dad into an old man, and we never even knew the damage we were doing."

"Now I feel real sorry for the old guy," Dean chuckled.

"Yeah."

"Yeah."

Chiu-Wai rolled around slowly, his eyes blinking open. He yawned, rubbing at his eyes. "Sammy?" he managed sleepily.

"Yeah," he grinned. "Morning."

"早晨," he offered, looking rather bleary. "Dihn uncle, 呢?"

"Washroom," Sam said, jerking his head that way. The boy nodded, apparently appeased. "You getting up, buddy?" he continued. "Paintings today."

The boy began to chat away to himself, sounding much like an old man in need of good strong tea as he hauled himself up and threw his legs over the side of the bed. He wandered to the washroom and pulled on the edge of Dean's towel.

"Hey! Only chicks get to pull my towel off," Dean protested, grabbing at it to keep it wrapped round him securely. He let himself be pulled out of the way and stood outside the washroom, scrubbing at his teeth as Chiu-Wai pushed the door closed. Dean looked at Sam. "I guess that means Private Man Time," he bubbled round the frothy toothpaste.

Sam grinned, climbing out of bed himself and scrubbing at his head. "When you two are done I'll get a shower. Then I need Wai Jai's help to look at some pictures."

"Cool. I'll get breakfast."

.

* * *

.

Sam pointed to the painting on the laptop. "Is _this_ the one?" he asked patiently.

Chiu-Wai looked up at him from his colouring. He followed Sam's finger, squinted at the the picture on the internet, and then shook his head. "唔係. 我怕呢復畫完全唔同."

Sam sighed and paged down. "This one?" he asked.

The motel door opened and Dean appeared, carrying brown paper bags. He shut the door with his foot as Sam and Chiu-Wai looked over.

"Dihn uncle!" the boy called happily, sliding off the chair and running at the adult. He grabbed onto his leg, bouncing up and down as he gabbled something at him excitedly.

"Woah there, horsey," Dean called, and the boy ceased jumping, at least. "I don't know what you're saying at me. Here, got you breakfast," he added, pulling a small white bag from inside the larger brown one.

"Waah! 唔該!" the boy chirruped, taking it with both hands carefully. He opened it up, talking to himself, as Sam sat back in the chair.

"Anything?" Dean asked.

"Well, so far he's ruled out about ten paintings," Sam sighed, "but there are literally hundreds they could have had in there - the police files on the paintings Roger Davenham actually stole are not exactly complete. We're going to have to just get in that kitchen and burn all of them."

"Before the poltergeist chops our hands off? Gonna be hard, seeing as we can't remember how many there were in there in the first place," Dean shrugged, carrying the bag to Sam's table and setting it down. "Here." He pulled out a coffee cup, putting it within reach of his brother before digging back in and fishing out a bagel.

"Waah! 你買咗玩具俾我? 好嘢!" came a little voice. "Dihn uncle, 你可唔可以幫我呀?"

Dean looked over to find the wee lad trying to hold pieces of a small toy as he kept a hash brown in his teeth.

"You bought him a toy?" Sam asked, surprised. "You old softie."

"It came with the hash brown, alright?" Dean managed defensively.

"Yeah, sure it did," Sam teased.

Dean ignored him and walked over to Chiu-Wai, crouching and taking the pieces from him. "Here, I'll do it," he said quietly, pre-occupied.

Chiu-Wai chewed his hash brown thoughtfully, watching him with wide eyes as Dean put the tiny toy car together. He looked at Sam over Dean's shoulder, smiling at the taller Winchester watching him.

"Dihn Uncle 買模型車俾我," he informed Sam, and even he could tell the small boy was bursting with pride. Chiu-Wai looked back at Dean, putting his hand to the man's sleeve to steady himself as he chomped on his hash brown.

"And the rear axle goes in the groove… _there_," Dean nodded, snapping the last piece into place. He looked at the small boy. "Done. This," he said, waving the toy slightly to focus the lad's attention, "is a Chevy. Chevy."

"Sheh-vee?"

"Yeah. Older than mine but just as cool." He held it out with a smile that touched his eyes, and Chiu-Wai grinned. He pushed the last of his hash brown in his mouth before wiping his hands on his jeans and taking the toy car.

"唔該," he said slowly, sounding very shy.

Sam tilted his head, surprised at the sudden bashfulness where the child was normally so forceful with his brother. He shook his head clear and turned back to the laptop.

"Now then," Dean said, getting to his feet. Chiu-Wai gripped his car tightly, inspecting it with excitement as he snaked his other arm round Dean's leg. Dean tousled his hair before tapping at the top of his head. "Paintings," he said. "Help Sammy, ok?"

Chiu-Wai grinned, rubbing his fringe against Dean's leg before tearing off toward Sam and his list of stolen paintings.

.

* * *

.

Chiu-Wai held onto Dean's hand as if were life itself as they walked through the hospital corridors. He chatted away merrily to himself.

"All those people who say talking to yourself is a sign of madness? They should get a load of Mini Dude," Dean observed.

"Jerry says he's not actually talking to himself," Sam allowed.

"Then who, huh? His _other_ self?"

"Jerry says he talks to spirits," Sam said quietly. "Sometimes even he can't see them, but he knows they're there. He talks to them anyway."

"And I thought he was just happy," Dean muttered.

They turned the corner and found more people than expected milling around the corridor. Chiu-Wai let go to run toward the busy corridor.

"Hey! Mini Dude! You stay with me, understand?" Dean ordered sharply, grabbing the boy's sleeve before he could get lost. The boy looked up at him and blinked to show he actually did _not_ understand a word Dean had just said. "I mean… Don't run off. You're gonna get lost in this place. I can't even find my way back to the parking lot, never mind you."

Chiu-Wai gave a small, knowing smile, confusing both Winchesters before putting his little hand to Dean's grasp. He pulled him off slowly, smiling all the while, and instead wrapped his two hands around Dean's large one.

"Okie dokie," he chirped, and Dean's stern face relaxed just slightly.

"Right. Let's go find Jerry." He turned to go, the boy bouncing along beside him merrily. Sam smiled to himself, glad his brother couldn't see it.

They found room 379 and knocked before hearing Jerry's voice. Dean opened the door and let go of Chiu-Wai, letting him streak across the room and bang into the side of the hospital bed.

"Hey, 慢啲啦!" Jerry grinned, putting his one free hand down to the little ruffian. He squealed and began to try and climb up the side of the bed frame.

"Dihn uncle, 你幫我, 唔該!" he cried, frustrated. Sam nudged his brother, who muttered something before walking over and picking up the little pioneer. He sat him on the bed by Jerry, who looked very amused.

"He's got you trained," he observed with a grin.

"Only for today," Dean replied smoothly. "We want him to stay here with you. We're off to torch a painting and then all this will be over - at last."

"Oh," Jerry nodded seriously. "Ok. It's a painting?"

"We think one of the watercolours in the kitchen is a painting stolen by a Roger Davenham. He was arrested for this and died in prison - after losing a hand. So we think he's the new poltergeist," Sam shrugged.

"Oh! Right," Jerry blinked, lost. "So then it'll be over?"

"We hope," Sam smiled, nodding.

Dean shrugged. "You'll know when we do," he allowed.

"Ok." Jerry looked at Chiu-Wai, who was busy leaning on his blood uncle and poking at the large white cast on his right arm. "Wai Jai," he said quietly. The boy looked at him, and Jerry spoke to him in quiet, confident tones. The Winchesters waited, watching the small boy's eyes start to turn red. Jerry shushed him before he had a chance to start crying, rubbing his shoulder and explaining something.

Chiu-Wai's eyes filled with water and he sniffed bravely, before his little voice asked his uncle what sounded like a tirade of questions. Jerry shushed him again, waving his hand at him. His soothing reply was enough to make the boy calm himself. But he looked over at his two temporary uncles surreptitiously.

He spoke at length to his blood uncle, before Jerry put his left arm round him and hugged him to his side. Chiu-Wai closed his eyes and his sniffling stopped.

"He understands, but he doesn't get it," Jerry said quietly, looking at Sam. "He understands a 'ghost' did this to his parents but he can't understand how a ghost could be so mean - he's never spoken to a bad spirit."

"He's been lucky," Dean observed.

Jerry nodded. "He knows you two are off to 'kill' this bad ghost. He's upset you're going to his parents' house again. He says it's a bad place and he doesn't want you to go."

"Yeah well," Dean sighed. "We don't really want to go either. -Don't tell him that," he added quickly.

Jerry almost smiled. "I won't. I just said you two were very good at this and he doesn't need to worry, that you'll do your best to get it fixed. Right?"

"Right," Dean nodded. "So he's ok to stay here with you while we do this?"

"Yes. He seems quiet," Jerry said, looking down at the small boy. "I've never seen him so withdrawn. You know what he's like."

"Yeah. Maybe he's just scared," Sam said quietly. "Hey, Wai Jai, buddy?" he called cheerfully.

The boy poked his head out from under his uncle's arm, one black orb shining at Sam.

"We'll be back, ok?" he asked hopefully.

Jerry translated and Chiu-Wai moaned something. Jerry looked down at him before finding Sam's face again.

"He says he believes you," he nodded.

Dean nodded. "Great. Let's get going." He turned to go, but Chiu-Wai slid off the bed with the agility of a primate and dashed across the room. He grabbed Dean's jeans quickly, saying something at him.

"What now, Mini Dude?" Dean asked, trying to keep from huffing.

"He wants you to…" Jerry paused, hiding a smile. "He wants you to look after 'Sammy' while he's not there. And he wants to know what he should do while he waits for you to come back."

"Oh - ah… Well, yeah, I'll look out for Sammy," he smiled. "What should you do? Ah… I don't know… Draw, or something," Dean said to the small boy, ruffling his hair.

Jerry relayed the message and Chiu-Wai let him go, turning to run to Sam. He put his hands out and Sam handed him the small rucksack. Chiu-Wai dashed back to the low chair next to his uncle's bed, pushing the bag on it but opting to sit on the floor. He pulled out his sketchbook and pencils.

"Guess we're good to go then," Dean shrugged. "See you later, Mini Dude," he called.

Chiu-Wai put a single hand up but kept his eyes on the book. "Bye-bye Dihn uncle. Bye-Bye Sammy."

"Jerry," Sam nodded, and the man waved a hand at him. Sam looked at his brother and they walked out.

.

.

* * *

_Thanks for waiting for the update! :)_


	11. 十一 Eleven

**十一**

**(Eleven)**

.

Dean brought the Impala to a stop at the end of the driveway, noting the stolen Camaro appeared to have been moved.

"Looks like the cops have been back," he grunted, squeaking the door open and going round to the boot of the car.

Sam climbed out and shut the door quietly, meeting him by the trunk. Dean lifted the lid and they looked in, fishing out sawn-off shotguns, extra salt rounds and an oilskin wrap full of lighting tools.

"I'll get the paintings off the walls, you shoot anything that moves," Sam said wisely.

"Wait a second. _I'll_ get the paintings, and _you_ shoot anything that moves," Dean offered.

They looked at each other. They both frowned. Dean closed the lid with finality, still trying to stare his brother out.

Sam lifted his hands together, balling them. "I'll fight you for it."

"You gotta be kidding me," Dean grumped.

"Only cos you know you'll lose," he teased. "You _always_ lose Rock, Paper, Scissors."

"Fine!" Dean huffed. He put the shotguns down on the boot lid and raised his hands. "One, two, three, go!"

Sam grinned, his rock-hands already pounding towards Dean's defeated scissor-hands. "I knew it! _Always_ with the scissors!" he chuckled. "I'll get the paintings. You cover me." He picked up the oilskin wrap and turned away, bouncing across the grass.

Dean muttered something unkind before snatching up the shotguns and following. They went round the house to the back, looking around in the moonlight and hearing nothing but distant cars and the occasional bird.

They sneaked up to the back door to the house, Sam finding yellow police tape across the archway. He pulled out a pocket knife and cut it loose, changing the blade for a lockpick. Dean shoved a shotgun under his left arm, opening the other gun and checking for salt cartridges. He snapped it shut and trapped it under his right arm, taking the first shotgun and checking that, too.

Sam put his tiny tools back in his pocket, taking one of the shotguns from his brother. He wrapped his long fingers round the door handle. He checked Dean over his shoulder, got a nod in response, and opened it slowly.

He crept in, darkness all around, as he heard his brother's boots follow him inside. The door hanging open, they inched along the rear hallway. Sam sped up and turned left, putting his hand to the large white door. He pushed on the wood slowly, causing the kitchen door to sway open. It creaked and he winced. Dean pushed at his shoulder from behind. He stepped in and looked around.

Nothing moved.

He wet his lips, assessing how far the closest painting was. He steeled himself and hurried to the far wall in a flurry of movement. Dean pushed the door open wider, the shotgun up and scanning the room.

"Hurry!" he urged hoarsely.

Sam put the shotgun down on the kitchen counter top. His hands went to the frame of the first painting. He lifted it painfully slowly. It came free. He tucked it under his arm. He turned to the other wall, hurrying along.

Something caught Dean's eye. He snapped round. Nothing. He eased his finger from the trigger, looking back at Sam. He already had the second painting under his arm. Dean watched the kitchen as his brother moved along to the third and last one.

A sound - a slight tinkle. Dean turned in time to see a cup lifting itself off the rack. He aimed and fired. The cup shattered, peppered with rock salt. There was a squeal as the salt sprayed over the area.

"C'mon!" Dean shouted.

"I _am_!" Sam shot back, pulling on the last painting. It wouldn't budge. He put the two others down at his feet. He gripped the picture and yanked. It refused to move.

"Duck!" Dean called. Sam simply dropped to a crouch. A shot hit the wall above him. He was covered in shards of salt. "This ain't a skeet shoot, Sam! Get the goddamn painting already!"

"I'm trying!" He shot up again. He pulled the demon knife from his pocket. He rammed it behind the painting, hoping to free it from whatever was binding it to the wall. He stopped when it did not make any difference.

Another salt cartridge flew out and into the wall, four feet from Sam. He jumped but didn't even turn to see. He put his eye to the edge of the frame, trying to find the reason for its anchoring.

"It must be mo-jo'd in," he called angrily. "There's nothing here holding it to the wall!"

"Fine. Move!" Dean ordered.

Sam scampered back as his brother simply shot straight at it. The glass front smashed, littering the tiles with gleaming slivers. The wooden frame was intact, the painting still on the wall.

"Great! It's still stuck!" Sam observed.

"Pull it out of the-" Dean paused to fire off another shot. He whipped out two shells and snapped the shotgun open to reload. "Pull the friggin' painting out and leave the rest!"

"Oh," Sam managed in a small voice. He put his hands to the unfettered watercolour.

Dean fired once, twice. Some kind of crockery smashed. He dropped the shotgun and snatched up Sam's from the counter. He fired once. There was a scraping sound.

"Sam! Move!" Dean bellowed.

Sam had time to look right before the large oven leapt at him. He stumbled back. The appliance heaved toward him. He found his feet and lunged out of the way desperately. He landed on his elbows in the glass. He was already rolling to one side.

The oven stopped, the upright back against the wall.

"Perfect!" Dean announced. Something slapped into his head. It sent him flying across the room. He smacked into the far door to the front hall.

Sam got to his hands and knees. He looked up to find the oven was now in front of the painting. "Holy crap," he tutted, putting his hand on the counter top to help him get up. "Dean?"

His brother was reaching for the shotgun on the tiles. "Forget them other two, Sam - get that one!" he ordered. Blood spilled down from the cut above his left eye but Dean lifted an arm, wiping it clear. He reloaded the shotgun, looking up and around.

Sam went to the oven. He grasped it and heaved, but it wouldn't move. "It's mo-jo'd in too!" he growled in effort.

Dean fired off two shots. Sam let go of the oven to regroup. He was yanked backwards. He fell heavily on his back, winded. His right arm was pulled over his head and he heard a clanking noise.

"No!" Dean raged. Another shot went off and Sam's arm was free. "Get up!"

Sam tried to breathe, tried to respond. His chest felt like fire. Something caught at his foot and pulled sharply. Another shotgun shell exploded on the tiles next to him. A squeal and a shriek. He saw Dean's black jacket lean across him and roll him to his side.

"Sam! Can you breathe?" he demanded. He let him go and began to reload the shotgun.

Sam coughed and dragged in breath. He punched at his brother's arm suddenly. Dean lost his balance and fell to his side. The flying demon knife barely missed his ear.

"Holy crap!" Dean bit out. He turned and fired behind them. "We're out of here. I'm nearly out of shells!" He heard a scrape. He twisted and fired at the moving dining table. "Now! Let's _go_!"

He dropped the gun and grabbed his brother's shoulders, heaving him up. The shotgun lifted and arced through the air. It slammed into Dean's head and sent him sprawling across the tiles. Sam put his hands under him, crawling to his hands and knees. He put a hand out and grabbed up the gun, falling to his side again as he tried to find shells in his pocket.

Dean shook his head. Something warm and wet was in his eye and his ear. He flicked his head sharply, trying to remove it. It made it worse. He scrambled to his feet just as the table shot across the floor. It caught him in the abdomen. He was lifted off his feet. He crashed into the side of the oven behind him. He slipped down, plastered against it in agony.

Sam heard the grunt of pain and slammed the second cartridge home. He rolled onto his back and fired at the front of the oven. A scream, a bang. He sat up, trying to listen and watch. The kitchen door creaked. He turned and aimed.

A piercing scream rang out. Sam recognised Chiu-Wai standing in the doorway. A chair fell over, the far door swung wide and then slammed. The boy slapped his hands to his face. He dragged in breath.

"Wai Jai?" Sam gasped. "What the Hell-!"

"Dihn uncle! Sam uncle!" the lad wailed. He ran into the kitchen.

Sam put his hand up. "No! Out! Out!" he shouted desperately. "Run!"

But the boy did not understand. He put his hands to Sam's arm, trying to help him up. In a second Sam realised compliance was the fastest option. He scrambled to his feet. He turned but the boy was already gone.

"Wai Jai! Out! Run!" he called, turning again to try and find him. He spotted the blur of his dark blue jacket. With tears on his face he halted by Dean, leaning and grabbing the lapels on the man's jacket.

"Dihn uncle! Dihn uncle!" he sobbed, unable to rouse him. "Kaai Yeh!"

Sam hobbled over and pulled him away. Chiu-Wai grabbed Sam's knee and held on, wailing and sobbing. Sam put his hand under Dean's chin and lifted it. Although suffering from two nasty cuts, he appeared to simply be unconscious. Sam slapped at his face.

Dean snorted. His head sprang up and he blinked.

"Kaai Yeh!" Chiu-Wai managed. He let go of Sam's leg. He grabbed at Dean's jacket again.

"Mini Dude?" he blurted, finding the world a hazy place. "What are you-"

"We are leaving!" Sam interrupted.

Dean swung his head up. "Right." He struggled to his feet. Chiu-Wai grabbed his hand, pulling on him.

"Kaai Yeh!" he pleaded.

"What's he saying?" Dean grumped, pulling the boy to a stop to pick up the shotgun.

"No idea. Just get him out," Sam urged.

Dean tossed the shotgun at him and lifted the boy off the floor. He sat him on his arm and turned for the door.

There was a rumble. The door slammed shut. Dean took a step back. He put his free left hand to the boy's back, pulling him in against him.

"Hold on, Mini Dude," he breathed.

"Kaai Yeh," the boy wibbled in fear. He buried his head in the man's front, squeezing his eyes shut.

Dean held him close, eyeing the room. "It's not gonna let us leave, is it," he judged.

"We need to move that oven," Sam nodded.

"Yeah right! I've got a kid here and you've got two shotguns with no shells left!" Dean countered.

Sam dropped the two guns and instead pulled the oilskin wrap from his pocket. "We have lighter fluid!"

"Great! Now all we need is a deck of cards! I know a great trick - it's called Death By Poltergeist!" Dean snapped back.

"Should have brought the salt," Sam muttered. He looked up suddenly, running to the cupboards.

Dean backed up as he thought he spied something move from the corner of his eye. "Hurry," he hissed.

"I am!" Sam flung open the two doors by his head. He reached in and pulled out a glass jar of salt. "Got some!" The jar was whisked up out of his hands. "No!" he roared. He jumped and his fingers brushed it. It was enough to make it drop. He grabbed for it quickly. It hit his fingers and bounced. It jumped in his hands once, twice, three times before he had a firm grip.

He turned for the oven and his brother. The dining table began to move again.

"Don't you friggin' _dare_!" Dean raged. He squeezed the little boy against him. He swung his right boot up. It collided with the edge of the table as it steamed toward him.

The impact threw him backwards against the oven again. He lost his footing and fell, curling round the boy wailing in terror. The table lifted and hurled itself at the fallen Winchester. Sam ran over but it smashed down. Dean's head took the full brunt.

"No! Dean! Wai Jai!" Sam shouted. He lifted the jar of salt. "You son of a bitch!" he growled, in a voice that had scared demons witless. He thrust the jar over his head.

Then he hurled it at the top edge of the oven.

.

.


	12. 十二 Twelve

**十二**

**(Twelve)**

.

Dean kept Chiu-Wai's head firmly pressed against his shirt. He shook his own head free of mugginess and wooden splinters. "Sam?" he gasped.

"Salted the oven and wall!" Sam cried, strangely defiant. "Can you get up?"

Dean saved his angry retort to aid his energy reserves. He wobbled to his feet, the extra weight of Chiu-Wai throwing him off-balance. A broken table leg raised itself from the tiles.

"Burn the friggin' oven! Now!" Dean spluttered, his hand spreading round Chiu-Wai's head, as if human flesh could somehow stave off all attacks on the small boy.

"Move!" Sam cried. He ripped open the oilskin wrap as something flew for his head. He ducked but it collided with his shoulder. He staggered and fell to his knees. Dean began to cross the kitchen.

The table leg whipped around. It crashed into his head. On top of all the other impacts, it was all Dean could do to land face-down on the floor with Chiu-Wai protected still.

The boy pushed and shoved at Dean's shoulder on top of him. The man didn't move. He wailed and screamed in fear. Still Dean did not move. Chiu-Wai heaved. He managed to get Dean's arm clear. He squeezed out. He crouched next to him. He pulled at his shoulder, ignoring the bloodied face.

"Kaai Yeh!" he wailed piteously. "Kaai Yeh, 起身呀! 起身! 起身呀!"

Still Dean did not move. Chiu-Wai turned on Sam. He pressed his hands to Sam's shoulder, calling out and crying in despair. Sam tried to hold onto him. Chiu-Wai shook him off. His little hands felt Sam's face and the boy fell silent. His expression turned into abject concentration. Sam felt an odd cloudy headache beat at his eyes before the boy's actions registered.

"Wai Jai! What are you-"

Chiu-Wai looked up. He grasped the canister from Sam's hand and ran for the oven.

"Wai Jai! No! Get back here!" Sam roared.

But the boy would not listen. He tripped and landed on his knees against the wall. He turned and squeezed the metal can in his hands. He gritted his teeth and grunted with effort. The lighter fluid streamed out between the oven and the wall.

Sam was already at his side. He grasped the can and threw it over his shoulder, not caring where it landed. He yanked the lighter from his pocket. He flicked it, waited for the flame, and tossed it behind the oven.

Flames belched up on impact. He grabbed the boy and shielded him from the light and heat.

The pieces of wood on the floor inched up. They turned, small daggers at the ready. They aimed themselves at the two people still conscious.

The fire licked up the wall. It spread to the wooden frame.

The broken pieces of wood wobbled in mid-air. Sam's head turned. He saw the slivers of chair legs. He pulled Chiu-Wai in tight against him and bent over to cover him completely.

The flames spread up the painting. An unearthly scream echoed round the kitchen. Chiu-Wai wailed and gripped Sam's shirt more tightly. The fire attacked the watercolour and the wooden surround. It devoured the picture greedily, charring and turning it to small, barely-there flakes of black ash in seconds.

The wooden pieces fell to the tiles. Sam lifted his head and looked at the oven carefully. The fire from behind it was starting to smoke, the flames receding against the retardant paint of the actual wall.

Chiu-Wai gasped and struggled suddenly, pushing from Sam's grip. He let him go, watching warily. The boy whipped around as if listening for something.

"Ma ma?" he asked cautiously. "Ba ba!" he grinned, his little head cocked to one side. He nodded, turning on the spot as Sam watched.

"You can hear them? You can hear your parents?" Sam blurted.

Chu-Wai's eyes began to stream. He managed a few shorts words before he sniffed and looked at the floor. Sam stared at the heartbreak happening right before him, unable to tear his attention away. Chiu-Wai nodded, then looked up at thin air again.

"Okie dokie," he whimpered, trying to smile. He waved his hand up, his face streaked with tears but his little mouth trying its best to appear brave. "Bye-bye, Ma ma, Ba ba," he sniffed.

Sam kept his mouth closed.

"Bye-bye, Ma ma, Ba ba," Chiu-Wai repeated, his voice a whisper. He let his hand fall before he dropped to his knees on the tiles. "Ma ma," he sobbed in anguish, his little palms over his eyes. "Ba ba!"

Sam swallowed, wondering just what he could do for the wee lad in so much pain. "Wai Jai," he managed, stretching a hand out for him.

Chiu-Wai got up and ran over, throwing his arms round Sam's neck and squeezing tightly. He sobbed for a good minute, Sam simply holding onto him not knowing what else to do. Chiu-Wai suddenly pushed him away, turning and hurrying across the room. He knelt down by Dean's head, putting his little hands to the relatively huge shoulder and pushing.

"Kaai Yeh," he begged, sniffing back tears. "Kaai Yeh a! 我需要你啊!"

Sam got up, felt himself wobble slightly, and made himself stand tall. He walked over and crouched down, feeling for his brother's pulse. It was strong and Sam dared to let himself relax just a tad.

Chiu-Wai stared up at him with wide, fearful eyes. He watched the younger Winchester, gauging his reaction, and calmed himself a little. He looked back down at Dean. "Kaai Yeh," he whispered, pushing at him in torment. "Sam uncle?" he havered nervously, dragging a sleeve across his face.

"Yeah?" he managed.

Chiu-Wai turned and put his hand up, waving a finger at Sam's face. Sam touched at it, feeling it warm and sticky. He pulled his hand away, looking at the sparse amount of blood thereon.

"It's ok," he allowed. He turned his attention to his brother, hefting a huge palm against his shoulder heavily. "Hey, Dean. Get up. We won."

Another few pushes and Dean's eyes were starting to blink. He felt something pounding at his back and heard someone trying to motivate him from afar. He understood neither until he got his hands under him, rolling to his side. Chiu-Wai leapt on him, his arms trying to sweep round his neck as the boy cried.

Dean realised the voice telling him to get up was very familiar and struggled to turn his head. He caught sight of Sam walking away. Dean put one hand to the tiles and pushed himself to sit up.

"Kaai Yeh! 我好擔心你收傷!" the boy wailed, his arms holding a death grip round his neck. Dean put a hand to his back, squeezing him tightly for a whole minute, feeling the boy shake and sob. He got some sense of perspective back, taking in the immediate vicinity of the kitchen and realising the boy in his grip was trembling all over as he wept.

"What's the matter? Anything hurt?" he asked, pulling him away.

"He seems fine," Sam put in, now able to shove the oven away from the wall. "Apart from saying goodbye to his parents."

"What? They were here?" Dean blurted.

"I didn't see them - he seemed to hear them," Sam muttered. "He doesn't seem hurt. Otherwise."

"Then why's he crying?" Dean demanded worriedly, pushing a hand through the boy's hair to test for cuts or blood. Chiu-Wai just sniffed and bore the scrutiny.

"Dude, they were his _parents_," Sam sighed, checking the painting was in fact completely burnt. "And he had to stand there and say goodbye."

"At least he got that," Dean managed. He pulled the boy's hand from his eyes and wiped at his face for him, earning him a look of soul-felt gratitude from Chiu-Wai. Dean pulled the cuff of his checked shirt out from the sleeve of his jacket, smoothing water and the odd smudge from the little face. Chiu-Wai just blinked at him, his expression beginning to shine with hope. Dean didn't see, so busy was he pulling the boy's shirt straight, tugging it to sit right. Chiu-Wai began to smile slightly as he watched the man apparently check for injuries in his little arms.

Dean found Chiu-Wai intact and let go. The boy put his hand out and took hold of the jacket over Dean's shoulder, holding on firmly, as Dean looked around the scene of carnage. "So it's done?" he asked quickly.

"It's done," Sam nodded, wiping his hands together.

"Oooh thank God," Dean sighed, falling back to the kitchen floor. "If I don't ever _not_ see a poltergeist again, it'll be too soon."

Sam grinned, shaking his head.

Chiu-Wai looked first at him, then back at Dean, the man's head now at his knees on the floor. He put a hand out and pulled the sleeve of his jumper over the palm of his hand. He used it to push blood from Dean's forehead, muttering something that sounded strangely soothing. Dean opened an eye, regarding him with bemusement, before Chiu-Wai let go of his sleeve and instead put his hand to Dean's hair. He stroked it through to the back of his head, ruffling it all, as if searching for injury.

"You two are like a couple of chimps," Sam teased, starting to chuckle.

Chiu-Wai looked at Sam quickly, then back at his hand. He pushed his fingers through Dean's hair again gently, then pushed it back the other way, apparently delighting in the softness and his ability to make it stick up in strange patterns.

Dean chuckled in relief, his eye closing again. It made Chiu-Wai laugh. Dean grasped they boy's hand and pulled on it, trapping it to his chest. Chiu-Wai collapsed on top of his ribs, making the older man wheeze theatrically and pat his hand to wee lad's back.

Chiu-Wai giggled and closed his eyes. And there he simply waited for his Kaai Yeh to get up. He decided, in a sudden burst of clarity, that he would wait as long as his Kaai Yeh needed.

Even if it meant missing the Scooby Doo marathon on Cartoon Network.

.

* * *

.

Jerry looked up as the door to his hospital room opened slowly. He grinned as he found Dean carrying a sleepy child on his arm. His grin faded as he took in the cuts and bruises to the Winchester's face.

"Thank God you found him!" he cried. "I swear I just closed my eyes for a minute - when I looked down the side there he was gone!"

"Yeah well, rugrats will do that to you," Dean shrugged. "We found his bag in the car - he must have ducked out the same time we left."

Sam appeared through the door and Jerry raised his finger, waving to the various injuries to both boys' faces, now clean and attended to. "It didn't go well?" he asked.

Dean wandered to the chair by the bed, easing himself down into it. "What can I say? I need three weeks in Hawaii."

"That's not such a bad idea," Sam agreed, closing the door quietly. "It's all taken care of. The new buyer's going to have to remodel the kitchen, but otherwise it's all good."

"That's a relief," Jerry sighed, sinking back into the bed sheets.

"You said it," Dean grumbled.

"I can't thank you two guys enough," Jerry added suddenly. "When I left Wai Jai with you I never thought it would turn into this."

"Neither did we," Sam admitted ruefully.

"Yeah, but… But others might have just dumped Wai Jai on me in here and split. You two didn't. That's why Bobby trusts you," he added quietly. "You're real stand-up guys. And I really owe you everything."

Chiu-Wai blinked tired eyes and rubbed them soundly before Dean noticed. He put his hand up and removed the boy's knuckles from his eyes gently. Chiu-Wai looked up at him, then round at Jerry.

"Jerry uncle," he smiled.

"Hey, Wai Jai," he grinned back. "你覺得點?"

"Sam uncle 真係英雄!" he gasped in wonder. "我好想做同佢一樣!"

Jerry laughed suddenly. "He says you're a hero, Sam, and he wants to be just like you."

"Oh," Sam managed, a shade embarrassed. "Well… tell him to go to school and get a degree or something."

"I will," Jerry winked. He looked at the boy again. "Dihn uncle, 呢?" he prompted.

"佢唔係 Dihn uncle," Chiu-Wai said firmly, with all seriousness, as he shook his head.

"Oh," Jerry blinked, his face dropping.

"What?" Dean asked nervously.

"He says you're not his uncle," he replied, confused. "所以 Dihn uncle 係邊個呀?"

"Kaai Yeh," the boy nodded. He turned and pressed a finger into Dean's chest. "我好想佢做我契爺. 得唔得呀? Ma ma Ba ba 話 ok 㗎," he added carefully.

Jerry's mouth worked for a second. Then he recovered some power over his mouth and looked at Dean. "He says… ah… he says you're not his uncle."

"I got that," Dean admitted.

"He says… He says your his 'Kaai Yeh'."

"He keeps saying that - what is a 'ky yeah'?" Dean asked, baffled.

"Well… I don't think there's a word in English. It's kind of like… a second dad. A close godfather, or a… well, a foster father, or another dad who's… kind of… like your real dad, except he's not your biological-"

"I get it," Dean interrupted testily.

Chiu-Wai looked at Jerry with eyes full of water. He began to talk, and Jerry listened in solemn silence. Finally the boy sniffed and stopped. He leaned into Dean, closing his eyes and sliding his arms round him.

"What was all that about?" Dean asked, confused. "He's been weird all day. Well, weird-_er_."

Jerry lifted a hand and wiped at an eye, clearing his throat. Sam realised with discomfort that something important had passed between Jerry and Chiu-Wai.

"What is it?" Sam asked quietly.

Jerry smiled ruefully. "It's just… He says you two set them free," he whispered. He sniffed and his voice got stronger. "He says you let his parents go on. They would have been stuck, but you did what needed to be done and now they're free to go. He thinks you've done the best thing for everyone, and we should all be happy now."

"But?" Dean asked knowingly.

"But he's only five. He doesn't realise he'll still be sad tomorrow."

Chiu-Wai tapped on his shirt and Dean managed to look at him. "What now?" he asked gruffly.

"做我 Kaai Yeh 呀?" the little boy asked timidly. "Peess?"

Jerry looked at his blankets. "He says can you please be-"

"I know what he said," Dean snapped irritably.

Chiu-Wai lifted his hand and splayed it out at him, palm first. He waved it slightly from side to side in hope. "Hi fi?" he dared.

Sam chewed on the inside of his lip, afraid to do much else. Jerry kept his mouth judiciously shut. Chiu-Wai's little eyes opened up as wide as they could go, considering the pressure they were under not to cry through sheer nervous terror at the prospect of heartbreak.

Dean lifted his hand slowly. "High five," he managed.

Sam recognised the expression of embarrassed acceptance on his brother's face, somehow glad that Jerry seemed mystified as to what it meant. Chiu-Wai slapped at Dean's bigger palm before smiling and launching himself up. He flung his arms round Dean's neck and hugged until the larger face nearly went blue.

"Ho, let me breathe," Dean managed, pulling the little arms free. The boy was grinning and talking away. Dean shushed him before looking at Jerry with blatant discomfort. "Say I let him get away with this craziness," he blustered - obviously so only to Sam, "what would a Kaai Yeh call the little squirt?"

Jerry began to smile. "A Kaai Jai," he said quietly.

Dean looked down at the boy who was watching him with so much hope in his eyes. "You want ice-cream, Kaai Jai?"

Chiu-Wai's grin threatened to overwhelm the entire room. Suddenly it was as if the sun had come out, and everything that Sam and Dean - and Jerry - had lived through in their odd lives had been washed away by the sheer innocent cheerfulness of the little five-year-old's smile.

"你想唔想食雪糕呀? 我買俾你," Chiu-Wai stated proudly.

"He says - he says do you want ice-cream? He'll buy you some," Jerry chuckled.

"Great minds think alike," the two Winchesters said together. Dean raised his head and caught Sam looking at him. Far from making him uncomfortable, the look of apologetic acceptance on Sam's face actually dared to calm Dean's raging embarrassment.

"Well ok then," Dean managed, getting to his feet. He hefted Chiu-Wai up and stood him on the bed. The next thing Chiu-Wai knew he was being lifted in the air. He found himself sat on Dean's shoulders, Dean's hands looking for his by his own ears. Chiu-Wai grasped them and laughed out loud, looking over and down at Jerry.

"好嘢!" the boy crowed delightedly. "我同 Sam uncle 同 Kaai Yeh 一齊去食雪糕!"

Jerry chuckled. "Go, take him for ice-cream. I'll still be here when you get back - when you get tired of the 'little squirt'."

"Are you kidding? He'll have him washing his car before he brings him back, you watch," Sam winked.

"You're just jealous, Sammy," Dean said with deliberate haughtiness. "Not everyone has their own Kaai Jai." Chiu-Wai kicked his heels in excitement, jabbering on and bouncing against Dean's shoulders. "Ooof! Cut that out!" Dean added quickly. "You ain't too big to fit in the glove compartment if you're trouble."

Chiu-Wai giggled and giggled as if he couldn't stop. And as Jerry watched Sam, Dean and the little ray of sunshine leave his room, he wished he never would.

.

**FIN**

.

* * *

_And as the sun sets slowly here in the east, I thank you all for reading and putting up with my attempts to be more serious for once. While Chiu-Wai was based loosely on a handful of my favourite students, he took on a life of his own from chapter two, and I'll actually be sad to see him go. Maybe there's a future for him in ice-cream sales. Or art._

_Thanks, everyone!_


End file.
